Coffee, Wood Shavings, and Lessons Learned
You ever have one of those mornings where you look out at your garage and think, “What have I gotten myself into?” I’ve been there, sitting down with a steaming cup of coffee, the kind that just smells like a warm hug, glancing at the pile of wood in the corner and trying to convince myself today’s the day I finally get it right.
So, here’s how it all started…
A couple of years ago, I decided I wanted to turn my love for woodworking into something more than just a hobby. I mean, I’ve always dabbled in it—made some picture frames, built a wobbly coffee table that I’m pretty sure would fail any furniture test—but I thought, why not make a business out of it? Yeah, that glimmer of possibility danced in my mind like it was a disco ball.
The Grand Plan (or So I Thought)
I sat down and scribbled out what I thought was a brilliant business plan. You know, the whole shebang: who my target market was, what kind of furniture I was going to make, even how I’d use social media to charm people into wanting my stuff. I had visions of hand-crafted dining tables that would make people swoon over Thanksgiving dinner. But, goodness, the road was rockier than I anticipated.
It all sounded good on paper—so good that I printed it out, making it look all official and respectable. I even found a PDF template online that looked like it came out of a business school. Yeah, I thought I was hot stuff. But, you know what? When it came down to it, yeah, the plan could’ve used a little more… well, life.
Trial and Error (Mostly Error)
Okay, fast-forward to me in my garage, feeling smug with my beautiful business plan tucked away and a stack of cherry wood on my workbench. The smell of that wood—it’s like candy, rich and sweet, you know? But then, I popped on my safety glasses, fired up my old table saw, and bam! I almost took a chunk out of my finger trying to cut the pieces for my first table. Yikes.
Let me just pause for a second. There’s something about woodworking that can be highly romanticized, like soothing whirrs of machines and the gentle tap-tap of a hammer. But when you’re in it, heart racing, wood splinters flying, it’s a whole different ball game. I swear I almost gave up after that first attempt, staring at the mess I made and wondering if I should just retreat back to binge-watching Netflix.
But then I found myself chuckling at how overdramatic I was being. I thought, “C’mon, it’s just wood.” So, with a deep breath, I picked up the pieces again and tried—really tried. After all, the best tradesmen didn’t get where they are without having their fair share of mishaps, right?
Finding My Footing (Almost Literally)
As months went by, I learned not just about woodworking, but about how not to market yourself. Spoiler alert: throwing up a Facebook page and dumping a few pictures isn’t enough. You need to show up. So, I did. Farmer’s markets became my second home, filled with the chatter of vendors and the smell of kettle corn wafting through. I laughed the first time someone picked up one of my cutting boards, looked at me like I was crazy, and asked if it was actually handmade. Like, did they think I was pulling a IKEA switcheroo? But that’s just it—those small interactions pushed me to find my voice.
It was at this market that I made my first big sale of the year—a rustic coffee table I had almost scrapped after the finish went all wonky on me. I’ll never forget watching this guy walk away with the table as I stood there in disbelief, like, did that actually happen? And it smelled great, too—like fresh wood and mineral spirits.
Setting Goals: Not Just for Business
So, I had my little victories, but here’s where the real lesson kicked in: I had to let go of my original plan. The PDF business plan had its flaws, for sure, but I realized, I didn’t need to fit into some cookie-cutter mold. I started making what I felt passionate about rather than what I thought would sell.
You see, in a small town, the folks care more about the story behind the wood than the wood itself. It’s about networking with the guy who runs the local hardware store or chatting with a customer about her grandmother’s walnut table. And boom, you’ve got clients.
Now, I’m still doing this whole woodworking gig, and some days it’s great, and some days it’s a hot mess. I’ve learned to embrace my imperfections—whether that’s a slightly crooked joint or a missed measurement. Laughter comes more easily these days; after all, if I can’t enjoy this, what’s the point?
Closing Thoughts
If you’re thinking about diving into something like woodworking or starting your own small business, just go for it. Honestly, the lessons I’ve picked up along the way have been invaluable. I wish someone had told me that it’s okay to not have it all together on day one. We’re all figuring it out as we go. So, grab that piece of wood, take a deep breath, and just start. You might surprise yourself—it could turn into something beautiful.
