Why I Closed My New Shop

A big mistake, embracing failure - and feeling lighter

Pop the kettle on, this might be a long one. And isn’t that what makes Substack so lovely? A platform that facilitates slow-cooked, long-form content against the existential backdrop of social media trends and dwindling attention spans. Writing on here really feels like a return to the golden days of blogging, safe in the knowledge that my words will arrive, warmly invited, into my reader’s inbox, and I don’t have to splice them into a tacky reel in order for you to have a chance of seeing them.

Where do I begin, then?

I suppose with a trip down memory lane, if you’ll indulge me. I’d like to share my track record of trying to sell stuff online, so you can understand how and why the path has ended here. I’m not sure of exact dates, but let’s say it was around 2014, somewhere between my undergrad and Masters degrees, that I started picking up my pencil and drawing again. The first collection I printed for sale was a set of four greetings cards inspired by the farm animals and wildlife at Butser Ancient Farm, including this actually-kinda-creepy Manx Loaghtan ram:

I went on to create more wildlife themed cards and bookmarks, which I started selling online and at talks when I was promoting my first book. I also dabbled in pet portraits and other bespoke commissions, which stressed me out a bit but allowed me to test the waters for what sort of thing might sell. These were a few early ones, mainly working in pencil and pastels:

By 2018, I’d finished my Masters degree, gone freelance as a writer, my first book had been published, and I’d started to build a decent following online. I was still mainly just selling cards and bespoke commissions at this point, like this ring ouzel I painted for a giveaway with the Wildlife Trust:

And these were the bookmarks and cards I sold to tie in with the release of my first book:

I used to be vegan for a while (now veggie), and the first product I started making outside the usual cards and bookmarks was actually a series of vegan zines called Rabbit Food. I bloody loved making these - they ignited a spark for zine-making which still hasn’t burnt out, and I loved the process of writing, illustrating, designing, printing and sending out these tiny booklets in the post.

I also started selling prints for the first time:

Ta-da! I was a successful Etsy seller!

From then on, I started selling more designs in my Etsy shop, investing in my own printer so I could print things on demand. I kept it going through lockdown, branching out into my seasonal essay zines, wellness boxes, gift wrap, notebooks and all kinds of fun products that I really loved designing. It was great! And in those days, it was still semi-easy to get exposure on Instagram and show your stuff to potential buyers. Through two pregnancies, I kept selling things on-and-off (perinatal depression put things on hold a couple of times), either through Etsy or my own website on Squarespace. In the last year, I also branched out into print-on-demand clothing through Teemill, creating nature-inspired designs on sustainable, organic t-shirts.

But alas, friends. This is where the journey has come to an end. I am absolutely done, and I’m going to tell you the real reason why.

After years of learning through trial-and-error, I decided, in the second half of 2023, that I wanted to level things up. I spent several months over the winter working behind the scenes to make my online shop into more of a brand, improving product design, sustainability, sales strategy, marketing - the whole shebang. I wanted everything to feel more professional, and to feel like I was heading in a healthy direction, onwards and upwards, improving my business skills and making things that would have a positive impact on the world. I read a million books, completed online courses, learnt about SEO and trend forecasting and packaging design. I launched it all in February under my brand name Papaver - and after all the work, the hype, the planning, within weeks I had closed the doors.

Guess what my mistake was?

I focused so much on the products, I forgot how difficult it is to get them seen. More specifically? I forgot how ridiculously, impossibly, exhaustingly difficult it is to get exposure on social media. The amount of tedious, hoop-jumping crap you have to do now to shout above the noise, hack the algorithm - even to just get 10% of your followers to see your content, let alone buy it.

I knew this stuff. I’ve been on social media for years, and it’s common knowledge how difficult it has become to gain an organic following without dedicating half your working hours to making reels or choosing the right hashtags. And guess what? If it was worth it - if all that work actually resulted in followers or engagement or sales - then perhaps I could have persevered. But even with content planners, sales courses, daily posting, 20 reel ideas for spring! - It is laughable how much time we are expected to put into this stuff to even have a chance of being seen by someone who already follows our accounts, let alone by new audiences. Quite honestly, it feels like the biggest waste of my precious life on earth, and deep down, I should have known this was an obstacle too large for me to overcome. I’ve struggled with social media for years now, the mental exhaustion it gives me, the ‘necessity’ to use it if you want to make any kind of living from your creativity (spoiler alert: I don’t think you need social media at all to have a successful career).

I am so. fucking. done with it. These corrosive, soul-destroying platforms that demand so much and give us nothing but fragmented attention and shitty, lowest-common-denominator entertainment. Don’t even get me started on TikTok, which I actually attempted to use as part of my grand sales strategy. The horror, the horror.

So there you go. If I didn’t have a writing career and I really wanted to make it through selling online, it’s possible, of course. Plenty of people are doing it. But you have to have at least a good tolerance for social media, and man, I DO NOT. It’s taken me a while to accept that the internet no longer offers me the space to do two things at once. I don’t want to spread myself so thin. I don’t want a content calendar. I don’t want to be on my phone around my kids. I don’t want to make trending reels. I want to do real work and promote it in more meaningful ways.

I’m kind of sad about the whole thing, to be honest. I loved having a little online business, designing products, packing orders by hand, shipping them off. It’s incredibly fulfilling, but I’ve had to accept that it just isn’t feasible any more. I did try and sell on Teemill again a few weeks ago, which would have meant not having to fulfill the orders myself or worry about buying stock, etc. But I quickly realised these are the things I enjoy most about it all - doing everything by hand, having a connection with the people who support me. Plus, between you and me, Teemill has a nice, ethical vibe but the quality is a bit rubbish. And I don’t want to sell poor quality tat for a couple of quid here and there. I could have kept the shop open anyway but it’s digital clutter, loitering in a corner of my brain and demanding my attention. Better to be done with it completely.

But I am sad. I tried and tried and tried, and now I have to accept defeat, dust off my hands and return to the heart of my career, the juiciest, most delicious bit: Writing and illustrating books, and all the projects that come with that territory. And to be honest, the moment I made the decision, I felt lighter, like I didn’t realise how much this overload had been weighing me down. I am no longer splitting myself between too many things, and it feels nice.

Don’t get me wrong: Multi-hyphening is a good thing.

It is wonderful to be able to do anything you want in this world, but it is also a tightrope walk when you’re doing something you care about and trying to make it work within the parameters of an oversaturated, all-consuming online market. Life is too sweet and precious to surrender to something you don’t align with, and the more I go on, the more I read and listen, the more I worry society is heading down a dark path, spending more and more of our lives online - which is not living at all.

I don’t believe in manifestation, but I do believe the universe offers you signs if you’re open to seeing them. And guess what? In the short time since I’ve closed the shop, I’ve received more emails about book commissions and other exciting projects than I’ve had in the last six months put together. I reckon that’s the universe telling me I’ve made the right decision. My schedule is now on a single page to-do list, and I’m no longer trying to film vapid content while my babe sleeps. My brain feels more focused, more settled, and my work feels ‘deeper’, as my fave Cal Newport would say.

Honestly, I have a lot more to say on the digital world and our use of social media, because I find it infinitely fascinating. I’ll be writing more on Substack now because I find this to be the best platform available in terms of writing with integrity and authenticity. And if I’m completely honest, I can’t guarantee my Instagram account will still exist this time next week.

In fact, I really hope it doesn’t.