Confessions of an Introverted Woodturner: The Art of Self-Promotion (Without Panicking)

I love woodturning. I love the smell of freshly cut cherry, the hum of the lathe, and that magical moment when a block of wood becomes something smooth, shiny, and entirely unexpected.

What I don’t love?
Telling people about it.

Because, you see, I’m an introvert — which means I can happily spend eight hours sanding a bowl in silence but break into a cold sweat at the idea of saying, “Hey, could you check out my website?”

The Social Media Struggle

They say you need to “build your brand” and “engage your audience.” I tried. I even wrote my first Instagram caption:

“Here’s a bowl I made.”

It sat there, looking lonely. So I added a few hashtags — #woodturning #handmade #pleaseLikeMe — and called it a day.

By the time I hit “post,” I needed a nap to recover from the emotional exertion.

The Elevator Pitch That Never Left the Ground

I know I should be ready to tell people about my work — but every time someone asks, “What do you do?” my brain short-circuits.

Instead of proudly saying, “I create hand-turned wood art,” I usually mumble something like, “Oh, you know… wood stuff,” and change the subject to the weather.

Apparently, that’s not the marketing strategy experts recommend.

The Website Whisperer

Even my website is quiet — tasteful photos, simple design, and not a single pop-up screaming “Subscribe NOW!” I tell myself it’s minimalist. Others might call it nervously polite.

But slowly, I’m learning.
I’ve started sending an occasional email, posting a new photo, and even — brace yourself — sharing my work in a local art group.

Each time, I remind myself that I’m not bragging; I’m inviting people to see something I made with care. And that’s not scary — it’s kind of wonderful.

The Moral of the Story

Being an introverted artist in a loud, promotional world is tough. But just like turning a rough log into a smooth bowl, it’s all about patience, small cuts, and taking a deep breath before the next step.

So if you’re here, looking at my work — thank you.
You’ve just made an introvert’s day.

The Accidental Web Developer: Adventures in Building a Woodturning Website

Introduction

They say every artist must suffer for their art. I always thought that meant sanding my fingertips or getting whacked in the shins by a rogue piece of spinning walnut.
Turns out, they meant building a website.

All I wanted was a simple online gallery for my woodturned creations — something elegant, easy, and inviting. How hard could it be?
Click a few buttons, upload a few photos, and voilà — instant digital showroom!

Spoiler: it was not voilà. It was voilà… what just happened?

Step 1: The Domain Name Dilemma

Choosing a domain name felt like naming a child — except every name I liked was already taken.
Apparently, BeautifulWoodCreations.com was claimed by someone in 2004 who hasn’t updated their site since dial-up.

I finally found something available, somewhat relevant, and not too embarrassing to say out loud. (I drew the line at TurnedOnByWood.com.)

One small victory in a sea of impending confusion.

Step 2: Squarespace, My New Frenemy

Next came Squarespace — the friendly-looking website builder that promised I could “create a stunning site in minutes.”

Minutes, they said.
They failed to mention how many minutes.

Three hours later, I had successfully changed my homepage font to something called Beige Whisper and made my navigation bar disappear. Forever.

After roughly twelve YouTube tutorials (each hosted by someone far too cheerful), I finally produced something that vaguely resembled a website. I almost printed a screenshot and framed it in celebration.

Step 3: The Automailer from Outer Space

Then came the “automated email” setup — that magical system that’s supposed to greet new subscribers for you.

Sounds simple, right?
Except my automailer apparently had trust issues. Instead of sending one welcome email to new subscribers, it decided to send twelve test messages… to me.

Each one began with “Welcome, New Subscriber!”
At least I felt popular.

Step 4: The Subscription List That Wouldn’t List

Once the automailer was somewhat tamed, I tackled the subscriber list — a tidy database of people who wanted to hear about my latest turning projects.

Except my list was more of a mystery novel. Subscribers vanished, reappeared, or multiplied spontaneously like gremlins.
At one point, I had three versions of myself subscribed under slightly different spellings of my name.

If this were a wood bowl, I would have thrown it in the kindling pile.

Step 5: The Triumphant (and Slightly Smoked) Finish

After days of muttering, Googling, and polite negotiations with my Wi-Fi router, the site finally worked.

The domain pointed to the right place.
The automailer behaved (mostly).
And the subscriber list stayed intact long enough for me to hit Publish.

When it finally went live, I expected confetti. Instead, I got a polite pop-up that said, “Your site is live.”

Still, I stood back — like after finishing a particularly stubborn turning — and thought, You know what? That actually looks pretty good.

Moral of the Story

Building a website is a lot like woodturning:

• Things spin out of control fast.

• You’ll sand off more rough edges than expected.

• And by the end, you’ll stand there, covered in digital sawdust, proud of something you built with your own hands.

If you’re reading this on my new website — congratulations! It works!
And if you’d like updates about new pieces or upcoming shows, go ahead and hit that Subscribe button.
Just don’t be alarmed if the automailer greets you… twice.