E62 Transcript
At some point you’ve probably said something like this:
“I want to get in there and do the work… but I don’t know where to start.”
Or… “I don’t have time, and I’m overwhelmed with all the options before I even touch fabric.”
If you’ve been thinking, What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just sit down and make? — I want to reframe this right out of the gate.
It’s not laziness. It’s not a character flaw. It’s not that you “don’t want it enough.”
What you’re feeling has a name.
It’s called entry cost.
It’s the invisible startup fee your brain charges you before you’re allowed to begin.
And I’m going to say something that might sound a little blunt… but I mean it as a clean boundary, not a shame statement:
If you’re not making, you’re not a maker yet.
You’re a thinker… about making.
And listen — that’s not a moral failure. It’s just a category. And categories can change. We can fix it.
We ALL go through the cycle of what Jon Acuff calls Dream, Plan, Do, Review. Catchy and simple to remember.
But id you get stuck in the dreaming and wishing, the planning and researching, and never get to the DO part…then you never become the doer – the maker, the artist.
Today I’m not giving you motivational quotes. I’m not telling you to “just make time.” I’m not pretending you have a magical three-hour block waiting somewhere in your week.
I’m giving you three doorways back in — practical, studio-real, serious-maker doorways.
And I’ll prove to you I’m not preaching from the mountaintop.
I’ve had a black linen jacket on my table for months. Months.
I wanted to do artful patches, stitching, appliqué, painting — the whole thing.
And I kept circling it… like it was a slightly intimidating animal I wasn’t sure I should approach.
And then one day I said, out loud, “This is what’s next.”
Not, “Let’s finish it.” Not, “Let’s do it perfectly.” Just: “This is what’s next.”
I applied one artistically stitched patch… and it was like the river started flowing again.
That’s what we’re doing today.
Serious Makers – get ready for some serious strategies.
Okay. Let’s name what’s happening when you walk into your studio with good intentions and still don’t start.
Because that’s the part that makes people feel crazy.
You look at your day and think, Technically I could. I have forty minutes. I have an hour.
And then you don’t.
And then you feel guilty.
And then you decide you “must not really care.” “I’m so unmotivated.” “I’m procrastinating again.” Okay maybe a little…
No. All kidding aside…That’s not necessarily what it means.
Starting feels, for lack of a better word, expensive even when the clock says you have time.
Let’s talk about the behavior — the hovering behavior — because most of us do the same dance.
You walk into the studio. You touch a stack of fabric. You pick up a pattern envelope or a project bag.
You look at it.
Then… somehow you’re checking your phone.
Or you suddenly remember you should reorganize the pantry.
Or you decide the cutting table needs to be cleared first.
Or you start “just straightening” one pile and now you’re in a full-blown studio cleanup you did not plan.
And then you leave.
And the part that feels awful is that you were so close. You were right there.
So what is actually happening?
Here’s what entry cost includes — and this is why your brain gets stuck at the doorway:
• choosing which gets your attention
• remembering where you left off
• setting up tools and clearing space
• finding the right thread, needle, pattern pieces, the notes you made
• and here’s the one people don’t admit: the emotional risk
What if I mess it up? What if I waste good fabric? What if it doesn’t match what I see in my head?
Now - Your brain is not stupid.
It’s running some very fast calculations in the background that sounds like:
“Okay… if we start this, how messy is it going to get?
How many decisions are required?
How much time will it take to get traction?
And will this end in a win… or will this end in frustration?
And your brain prefers known sequences and answers.
Because known sequences and answers are cheaper.
Known sequences don’t require as much decision-making.
Known sequences don’t carry as much uncertainty, as much energy.
So here’s what I want you to take to heart:
You’re not avoiding sewing…per se.
You’re avoiding the uncertain first few minutes.
And I’m going to say this plainly, maybe even bluntly, because it really matters:
If you want growth — if you want excellence — if you want progress or success or to get anything finished, you have to get past the first few minutes.
Full stop.
Not every day. Not perfectly. Not like a robot.
But you need a way to cross the threshold that doesn’t require you to feel inspired or motivated first.
Because if the first step is unclear, your nervous system interprets it as work — not relief.
That’s entry cost.
Now let’s go deeper, because entry cost shows up in a few predictable forms.
And the reason I want to name these is not so you can diagnose yourself and feel bad.
It’s so you can diagnose yourself and fix the problem.
Once you know what kind of stall you’re dealing with, you can stop trying the wrong solutions.
The first block is The Unclear First Step (“Where do I even begin?”)
It’s the most common one.
You don’t start because you don’t know where to enter.
You walk into the studio and it’s not one project, it’s twelve.
Or it’s one project… but it’s at a stage where it’s not obvious what comes next.
In fiber work it can look like yarns and scraps everywhere — pieces half-pinned, half-placed, materials you love, but no clear next move.
In sewing it’s the same think — patterns, thread, notions, fabric, interfacing, the half-pressed seam you meant to return to.
And your brain stalls.
Because ambiguity creates friction.
Ambiguity demands planning.
And planning is expensive when you’re already tired or when you were expecting to jump right in.
So here’s the straight truth:
You don’t need the plan.
You need the next correct action. Just take one. It’s usually then when muscle memory returns.
You don’t need the whole sequence. Not step 35. Not the ten things you “should” do after this.
The next correct action.
And here’s why this matters for serious makers:
Clarity isn’t a personality trait.
It’s not that “organized people” make more.
Clarity is the result of a clean first step.
And it gets better and clearer the more steps you take.
Meaning: the more you practice entering your own work, the cheaper entry becomes.
But you can’t think your way into that.
You have to take a step.
The second common block is that Setup and Cleanup Dread (“It’s a whole production.”)
Okay. This one is so real for fabric people.
Because fabric isn’t like opening a laptop.
Fabric work is physical.
It has a lot of overhead.
The ironing board. The cutting table. The machine. The pressing. The thread. The bobbins.
And lots of time and space are all part of the craft.
So when people say, “I don’t have time,” sometimes what they mean is:
“I don’t have time for the whole production.”
And if you’re already running on fumes, your brain looks at the overhead and thinks, “Is this worth it?”
Now here’s an important distinction that a lot of people never make, and it’s silently sabotaging them:
Prepping is not making.
Those are two different activities.
Two totally different mindsets.
And you can (and should) absolutely do one without the other.
It’s like cooking.
There’s chopping and prep… and then there’s the actual cooking.
It’s like painting a room.
There’s taping and protecting and moving furniture… and then there’s paint on the wall.
It’s like planning a wedding.
There are logistics… and then there’s the actual event.
If you treat sewing as one giant all-or-nothing event — setup, work, cleanup, everything — you will avoid it more often than you want to.
So, the recognition line here is simple:
If the only version you allow is the full-on production, you won’t do it very often.
Separate the activities.
And I’ll add this:
This second block creates the third block.
Because when the overhead is high, the pressure rises.
And when the pressure rises, fear gets louder.
Which brings us to the third block - Standards and Fear (“If I can’t do it well, I’d rather not do it…now, or at all”)
This is the one serious makers don’t always admit out loud because it sounds a little intense, or self-centered, but it’s extremely common.
As you get more skilled, you develop taste.
You know what good looks like.
You can see what’s possible.
And you can also see, instantly, what could go wrong.
So you avoid starting… not because you don’t care, but because you care a lot.
Perfectionism is often self-protection.
It’s the brain trying to protect you from disappointment.
From wasted fabric.
From evidence that you’re not as good as you want to be.
So let’s zoom out for a second:
High standards are not your enemy.
They’re part of what makes you a serious, competent maker.
Now let’s zoom back in:
Your standards belong in the work.
Not at the doorway.
At the doorway, you need a reliable entry.
Inside the work, you can raise the bar.
And yes — solving the second block (a clear first step and separating prep from the actual work helps alleviate this third fear based block.
Because if you lower the production overhead, you lower the pressure.
And if you lower the pressure, you start sooner.
And if you start sooner, you gain traction, skill and expertise faster.
So what’s THE FIX?
Let me give you THREE DOORWAYS BACK IN
Let’s get to the juicy part, the part you can use this week.
This is HOW you make that first step very clear, so your nervous system doesn’t see it as work.
This is not a checklist.
It’s a studio practice.
And I’m calling them doorways for a reason: a doorway is something you can walk through even if you don’t feel ready.
Doorway 1 — The 10-Minute Re-Entry (No Decisions)
This is your warm-up.
This is how you get your nervous system and your hands back into the room.
And if you want a visual that’s actually useful:
Olympic skaters don’t wait until the medal round to step onto the ice.
They warm up in costume before they ever perform.
Because the body needs contact before it can do precision.
There’s a reason for that.
So your 10-minute re-entry is a known sequence task.
No decisions. No big meaning. No pressure.
Examples:
• wind bobbins
• press fabric
• cut test scraps
• clean up your machine
• thread it and stitch a sample line
• lay out tools and clear only the space you need for the next ten minutes
And here’s the key line:
We are not trying to make art yet.
We’re just trying to reestablish contact.
You’re getting into the headspace.
You’re doing the mental prep through physical action.
Because the fastest way back into making is not thinking.
It’s contact.
Doorway 2 — The Next Physical Step Rule (No Planning)
This one is for when you already have a project in motion.
You are not allowed to plan the entire thing.
You are not allowed to review step 35 in your head.
You are not allowed to pre-fail the project before you start.
Your job is to do one physical action with the piece that reduces uncertainty.
That’s it.
Examples:
• align the pieces you need for the next seam
• mark the notches
• pin one section
• press the last step so the next step becomes obvious
This is the principle:
Motion creates information.
Information creates clarity.
And yes — there’s a familiar saying: focus on the step right in front of you.
It’s true because it works.
So many makers get hammered thinking about step 35 that they mess up the step right in front of them because they lack the focus.
And if you want excellence, this is one of the key habits:
Respect the step you’re in.
Don’t outrun your own process.
Doorway 3 — The Closed Loop
Now, I hear you on this: I’m not going to tell you to make a tiny stitch, a “mini pouch”, or a practice piece. That energy can feel… too small, too beginner.
And it will not work here.
So let’s define what “closed loop” actually means for serious makers.
A closed loop is not “tiny.”
A closed loop is a defined segment that resolves uncertainty.
It’s a chapter that feels clean.
It can be one decision finished.
One technique tested.
One section built.
One problem solved.
Closed loops restore confidence faster than big dreams because they give you proof.
Not hope. Proof.
Let’s go back to my black linen jacket.
I was stuck partly because I didn’t know how the decorative elements were going to behave on that fabric.
I didn’t know if the stitching technique I wanted would look amazing… or look like a craft fail.
So I didn’t start.
Then I tested one machine-sewn stitching technique on a patch.
And I liked it.
And that moment was a discovery.
It was: “Okay. I finally have that figured out.”
It wasn’t the end of the project — not even close.
But it closed a major uncertainty loop.
And that meant I could stop there if I needed to… without feeling like I left chaos on the table. It meant that it would be easier when I came back.
That’s serious-maker “small.”
Not tiny. But – Strategic, which can be a small action with huge implications.
Now, a teaching moment here:
Beginners need doorways because they need a safe entry.
Intermediates need loops because they need proof and direction.
And advanced makers need closed loops because the work is complex, and complex work requires deliberate and multiple chapter closing points.
That’s not weakness.
That’s called management.
Let’s tighten this up a bit.
You don’t have to feel like making to be a maker.
You do have to return to the work and make.
Let me say that again-
You don’t have to feel like making to be a maker.
However, YOU HAVE TO MAKE!
That’s the difference.
Not hustle. Not passive income. Not vibes.
Craft contact and reps.
And here’s something I want to put words to, because it’s vital to your success:
There’s external motivation — the kind where you wait for the mood, the inspiration, the burst of energy, the “right time.”
And there’s internal motivation — the kind you build through identity ‘as a maker who makes’ and the practice of actually doing it.
External motivation is unreliable.
Internal motivation is designed. It is built. By you.
And serious, competent, exceptional makers don’t let external motivation run the studio.
They don’t wait for permission.
They don’t wait for a perfect mood.
They design and build a reliable entry.
That’s what discipline looks like when it’s not punishment.
It’s a structure that protects the work.
And if you want exceptional work — work that closes the gap between what you envision and what you can execute — you need a reliable entry.
Because talent without entry is just longing.
And longing is not a practice.
Making is.
I want to give you a little bit of food for thought – and this is not meant to make you overthink.
These are diagnostic.
They’re meant to help you see your pattern.
Because once you see the pattern, you stop taking it personally. And you can start to do something about it.
So here you go:
~What’s your most common stall point — choice, setup, fear, overwhelm? And where is it coming from?
~When you avoid the studio, what are you doing instead that feels productive?
And I mean… really.
Is it productive?
Or is it just cleaner? Is it just safer?
~If you absolutely had to start in six minutes, what’s the first physical step you’d take?
Not the ideal step. The real step.
~What would count as a win today: contact, progress, or closure?
And here’s a question serious makers tend to appreciate:
~What’s one task you can do that creates less mess than it solves?
Meaning: what’s the smallest action that actually reduces your entry cost tomorrow?
Because that’s how you build a studio life that works.
Not by willpower.
By design.
You build a working studio and practice by design.
So let me pull the high points together.
If creativity feels hard to start — even when you want it — the problem is not that you’re lazy or undisciplined.
The problem is entry cost.
Starting feels expensive because the first few minutes are full of uncertainty, overhead, and emotional risk.
So the work is:
Name your block.
Is it unclear first step? Is it production overhead? Is it standards and fear?
And then choose — or design — a doorway.
A 10-minute re-entry to rebuild contact.
A next physical step to reduce uncertainty.
A closed loop to create proof and clean stopping points.
That’s how serious makers get back in.
Not with hype.
With structure.
Now next week, we’re going to talk about the gap — that space between what you can see in your mind and what you can execute with your hands.
And I’m going to show you how that gap closes… not with more dreaming, but with targeted skill, better decisions, and smarter practice.
Because the goal is not to be inspired.
The goal is to be capable.
So until next time…
keep your hands on the cloth and your heart in the work.
