What. A. Year.
Sometime toward the end of last year, I decided to really give this pattern-writing thing a proper go. I set a SMART goal (because of course I did), sketched out general plan for the 100 Quilt Project, and imagined myself slowly, sensibly building systems over the course of… well, a long while. Maybe even leisurely. Gracefully, even.
I thought I’d spend the next couple of years quietly building systems. You know—laying foundations, organizing files, easing my way into this whole “quilt pattern studio” thing with sensible pacing and modest expectations.
But no. That is not what happened.
Apparently, when you finally give your creativity the green light after years of percolating, it doesn’t stroll politely through the door. It sprints in with a binder of ideas, a stack of quilts, twelve browser tabs open, and absolutely no respect for your planned timeline.
Somewhere between intention and reality, I ended up building and launching an entire digital infrastructure much faster than I ever expected.
At the beginning of 2025, I took the plunge and registered The Happy Kiwi Quilt Studio as a business. The tax documents and official forms were exactly what you’d expect: forms. But at least they were familiar territory—I write procedures all the time in my day job. Pattern writing, thankfully, is the fun version of that: instructions with color, fabric, shapes, and the satisfaction of making something real.
I thought I’d get around to building a website… eventually. Maybe in late spring. But one April afternoon I blinked and found myself hitting “publish.” Then I thought, maybe I should tinker with that whole email list idea. And suddenly it was August, and the list was live, and I had sewn a full sample quilt just so I could offer a free pattern lead magnet. Reasonable people might procrastinate by reorganizing a cupboard. Quilters procrastinate by making an entire quilt.
Meanwhile, I kept designing. And sewing. And—much more importantly—Gracie began her professional development as a quilt model.
She is now, as you’ll see in the carousel, a seasoned pro. It didn’t start that way. Early in the year she was the awkward kid at school photo day—standing there, unsure of where to put her feet, vaguely suspicious of the entire process. But by mid-year something clicked. Now the moment a quilt touches the floor, she materializes, folds herself into a comfortable little layabout pose, and gives me a look that says, Proceed. Or it might be Cookie. (This same muse also head-butted me awake at 4:30 this morning. Stardom has its drawbacks.)
As the year winds down, I finally feel caught up to that initial creative surge that had been building for so long. The systems are here. The workflow makes sense. And I’m producing the kind of work I actually want representing me. There were wobbles—many documented in real time, complete with digital holes, muttering at my software, and more than one “talk me down” moment—but looking back, it’s incredibly satisfying to see the infrastructure in place.
Hard work doesn’t guarantee success. I know that better than most. But it does make success more likely. And right now, it is still a small thrill every single time someone buys a pattern and chooses to make their own version of something I designed. That feeling hasn’t faded once this year, and I hope it never will.
As for next year? I’m calling 2026 a settling-in year. The first year where I get to compare against a previous one. The systems are built, the patterns are ahead of schedule, and my intention (not goal) is to let things run without constant tinkering. To design from a clearer, quieter place—free from the scramble of “getting everything set up.”
Will the universe laugh at that intention? Probably. But I’m keeping it anyway.
And if you’re reading this: thank you for being here. Thank you for following along, for sewing along, for cheering quietly from the edges, or simply for pausing in your day to read these notes from the studio.
Here’s to another year in quilting, creativity, and the quiet rise of Gracie’s modeling career.
