On Being Unfinished - Part 2
Table of Contents
Exhausting All Permutations
Finiteness
Knowing When to Pivot
Part 3 (will be linked here when it’s published)
As A Maker
Exhausting All Permutations
Being unfinished can take on a lot of different manifestations. For me, one of these is around “completing” a line of design. I feel this inconsolable drive to do everything when I have a concept or idea. This often leads to a repetitive effort and a burned-outted-ness that comes from doing the same type of thing over and over again. I appreciate variety in my day and in my tasks and do not function well if I’m “stuck” doing the something repetitive, especially when there’s no hope of automation in the future.
An example of this might be having a certain style of earring that can be reproduced with some modifier. For example, offering the earring as a stud, as a dangle with gold hardware, as a dangle with silver hardware, in different wood / color options, etc. A lot of this stems from having folks ask me if I offer a certain item in different options. I think the world of Amazon and the endless variety that is offered online sets an expectation far out of reach for people hand-making and designing their own work.
I most prominently experienced this when creating graphic designs for initially mug prints, but then expanded to other product options. If I created a design, for example my “Wood Run for Pizza” design with a woodchuck eating pizza, I would offer it as a mug, as a tumbler, sticker, and then eventually a magnet. To do this for the 100+ designs I had, on Etsy, the standard set up for these products would mean 100x4 listings. Creating this many listings is tedious at best, brain-numbing at worst. Instead I’d create listings that would be at the design-level with options inside of the listing as the different product offerings, but this too became tedious and nearly impossible to manage, especially with overlapping blanks for the inventory.
Having “completeness” to my design line became overwhelming, impossible to do, and even if I came close, burdensome logistics to follow.
Recently I did an in-person sale and I didn’t make a ton of new inventory. I consciously decided to bring the inventory I had. This mean being VERY uncomfortable. Each of my designs and items had a level of inventory-incompleteness that I had to learn to deal with. People would ask me if I had more mugs with a certain print, or more options with a certain theme, and I’d have to respond and problem solve on the fly. After an entire season of selling in-person last year, I was much more mentally prepared. I was able to take stock in the seriousness of the request and reply with appropriate boundaries.
“This and other designs are available in my online Zazzle store.”
“I don’t offer this service / design at this time. You can always email me later if you want to check in though.”
I’ve learned a ton, a ton, a ton of stuff. I’ve learned a lot about how to do things, but more importantly I’ve learned a lot about what I like to do and what I don’t like to do. And with this knowledge, I can be more comfortable with how I deal with customer requests and questions. I can answer authentically and honestly within the bounds of my comfort and ability. And I can learn to show up with what I have, even if it’s not perfect and “complete” by my own (and sometimes others’) arbitrary, sometimes impossible to guess and know, expectations.
Finiteness
One of my relaxing pass-times is knitting. I like the meditative aspect. The repetitiveness. I also find some seriously profound life-lessons in it all. The idea that patterns are often difficult to see and trusting the process is what allows the design to unfold. The concept that our muscle memory can work even when we’re not entirely focused because of habit and pre-attentive attributes handled in our visual cortexes. Projects can be unwoven and upcycled just as easily as they can be started, a nod to the impermanence of this clever practice.
But my favorite is the finiteness of it all. As long as I show up, put in the work, even if it’s just one row at a time, and do that consistently, progress is made. It’s as simple as that. If I loop the yarn, and make my stitches, and progress from row to row, each row builds on itself. The pattern unfolds. Even if it’s not perfect, it grows. It eventually ends.
I start the project. I end the project. The in-between time might vary. The happiness might waver. However, the only way to end a project is to progress (or quit and unravel, which is also quite acceptable).
Sometimes day-to-day things and projects feel like they’re never going to end. Or problems we’re working to solve feel unsurmountable. When I feel overwhelmed, Pat often says: “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” to me. I get annoyed by this platitude, but he’s not wrong. When we break down our problems from one, huge one to several smaller, then we have our rows. As long as we show up and work on one of those smaller problems, starting and completing our rows, we progress. Maybe some day we’ll be able to reflect and realize how we’ve come a long way, working on smaller problems, smaller steps, until eventually we get through the big guy, or at least make a dent in it.
Knowing When to Pivot
Knowing when to give up or change is something I’ve always struggled with. It shows up from my perfectionist schema. Part of wanting to be perfect is to do everything perfect, and not being willing to let something slip into imperfection by quitting / letting it go. This prevents me from stopping toxic things and from starting new things. It’s a double-edged sword I’ve been injured by many-a-times over the years.
Thankfully, as a maker, a lot of my projects are smaller, more consumable goals. Trying something new in the form of an earring is a much smaller task than overhauling an entire website. That said, I’ve done both, many times, as a small-business owner. Because of the size of the smaller-making projects I’ve been able to test failing more readily. I’ve been able to try different design ideas or making approaches, recognize whether or not they can be tweaked or if I should abandon altogether, and then adjust accordingly.
Where this is a more difficult endeavor is when I’m working on larger strategy, whether in life or in business. For example: at what point do I decide if I’m hitting my success-criteria around being self-employed or not?
I have certain success-criteria, and I try to be honest with myself about what those criteria are and how to measure them, but I’ve noticed that I let them drift and shift, and let the measurement drift and shift as well. This leads to an always-moving target, an impossible goal of “happy”, and a continuous questioning on whether or not I’m “doing the right thing.”
Through this practice of making something small, quickly deciding what the next step is, and then moving forward, I’ve been practicing and learning this habit loop. Try, check-in, next step, repeat. This new loop has been a bit helpful in the larger, grand scheme of it all.
Try a new product, a new business line, a new idea. Check-in: is it working as expected? Do I see potential for to EVER work as expected? Next step: keep going, tweak, or drop? Repeat.
The nice thing about life is nothing is permanent. The hard thing about life is nothing is permanent. We can use this impermanence, however, to help motivate us and to give us comfort in that we can try things and know it won’t matter either way, because we were never meant to be comfortable in a permanent state, anyway.
Mantras I Use
If you read Part 1 here, then you know I have 2 main mantras. They extend here too with a bit of an addition.
It will get easier with time, practice, exposure.
Making is absolutely easier with practice, as a logistical process, sure. But more importantly, the habits we get, process, and cultivate through a making practice are also easier over this time. When we start to see the larger picture of how these trials and projects add up to life lessons, we can identify in ourselves when we’re starting to drift away from key practices. Remembering to continue to show up and work, try, and adjust are all important factors of the making process that permeate important tasks that are much bigger than knitting a scarf.
Don’t compare your beginnings to someone else’s middle or end.
This is especially important with regards to “completeness” in making. When making a new product line I can’t (but still try to) compare myself to the machine-made options available, or the folks that have been accumulating designs, ideas, and inventory for the last decade. I’ve been working hard at reminding myself that things take time to build, to understand, and to complete.
Impermanence can be a safety net.
Knowing that I can change my mind, change direction, and not be held to a standard or proclamation I set is comforting to me. I can pivot. I can live my life. Others might interject, thinking they know what’s best for me or know more than I do, but frankly I know what’s in my head and heart more than anyone. I have a partner in my life that I talk to and gain feedback from that knows what’s in my head and heart the second-most. Everyone else can deal with any pivots I make. It’s my life and I have to stay authentic to that, even if it might disappoint or concern others.
I feel more comfortable doing that because as I’ve learned, any decision I make is temporary. Even times I’ve said: “I’ll never have an employer again.” Or “I never want to own a house again.” These have all come back to haunt me. I’ve learned to stop speaking (and thinking) in absolutes. I catch myself every once in a while, and I try to walk it back, hedge a bit. Say things more like: “It’ll be very difficult to convince me to buy a house again” (after renting an apartment with a free latte machine in the lobby and a pool). Yet, here I am. I have an employer (albeit temporary / as a contractor). I own a house. Things change. I’ve been on this earth for less than 40 years. I suspect, with the advancement of technology, that barring some catastrophic event, I could likely be on this earth for another 40 years. I can tell you, a LOT has changed in the less-than-40-years I’ve already lived. How could I possibly presume to know what could happen in the next?
With that I leave it as: I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I can assure you none of it will be permanent, absolute, or wildly persistent. I’ll just follow my gut, my heart, and stay authentic to what Pat and I’s goals are. The rest will fall into or out of place accordingly. Regardless, it’ll all be ok.
Part 3
Last Updated 4/1/2024 - Part 3 is currently brewing in my heart. With enough hydration and kayaking, I’ll get there, and will update this section with a link to it. Follow my social media (Instagram) for regular updates.
