The Earrings Were Never the Point
July 25, 2026
You know those days where you’re mentally and emotionally spent, but not exactly physically tired? You want to do something, but it needs to flow and be full of ease. I went through a period over the past several years where I was trying out every type of craft—seeking something that I could lean into for some much-needed respite. I have quilted, sewn clothes, beaded, painted, tried diamond dot art, done embroidery, made mosaics, grew dahlias, started a fairy garden, made various upcycled Christmas ornaments, made bread (from wheat berries)—the list goes on.
BUT….
A year ago, I found polymer clay.
There was something oddly frustrating and satisfying about arranging, smooshing, flattening, and cutting out clay. It was a give and take of control. I’d have a vision, and I’d curate my colors, and then I’d run it through a pasta roller to get a flat slab of clay, and I would have to just accept what came out after about three crank turns on the counter-mounted roller.
I found it to be just enough of an "instant gratification" that I had to work for. If I really worked on it, I could make a new pair of earrings to wear the next day, but there were enough steps that I felt it was a challenging endeavor.
And the thing was, it was just what I needed to relax, let go, and find a bit of joy.
My first pieces were wearable, but barely! I have a stash of finished cutouts that never advanced to a wearable earring because they were, well, hideous! My daughter pointed out that one batch of earrings looked like raw steak—which I could not unsee. I did not feel deterred by the goof-up batches. They still were fun, and it was a quick learning experience. My skills also advanced quickly. To the point that people would compliment me on my earrings, often.
I kept making batches of earrings, and it started to become a bit of a rub. What the heck am I doing here?
I’d carry extra pairs in my bag with me, and if anyone commented on my earrings, I’d reach into my bag and give them a pair! People would tell me I should sell them. I was very quick to say, “Nah, I’m not really interested in doing all of that. I’m just having fun.”
Really, I didn’t want to lose the fun by making a relaxation task a productivity task, weighted even further by value placed on whether or not people wanted to PAY me for my earrings. So, I’d gift them at every chance.
Happy Birthday, here’s some earrings.
Girls' night out? Earrings for everyone!
Back from maternity leave? Here’s some earrings!
New friend I met at a resource table? Here’s some earrings!
Merry Christmas! Earrings for you and you and you!
As you can imagine, the whole thing came to a head because I had almost 200 completed earrings, and I still was all in on continuing to make them. Learning new skills, finding better hooks, posts, and various findings, and I even started dabbling in some branding—with a sweet songbird wax seal placed on the back of all the earring cards.
Initially, I thought I’d start a Shopify page.
Big flop.
One thing to know about me: the wind gets sucked right out of my sails if I have to do anything too technical, and the Shopify page? Too technical! So, I decided on Etsy.
Big flop, again!
Picture-taking? Technical!
If you do not have good pictures, earrings are just lost in an overcrowded sea on Etsy. As I type this, I still have an Etsy store set up, but I’m sitting at a whopping ZERO sales.
I went to a very small women-owned and women-focused craft fair before Thanksgiving, and it was a bit thrilling to sell earrings! Also, around this time, more and more people in my life were wearing MY earrings.
Then, my personal mission to raise awareness to mental health and suicide prevention really took hold of my Finch & Fern brand, and I went to my first weekend-long craft fair—which you can read about here. (Financial flop! But awareness success :-) )
I love making my everyday line of earrings. It is my relaxation and exploration time. I make small-batch, everything-is-different-every-time line of earrings. I almost exclusively wear my own earrings, and I find them fun, lightweight, and regular conversation starters.
But my semicolon line—that’s the real passion. Not making the earrings—that is a bit more repetitive—but the purpose, that is the passion. Knowing that there are little symbols of hope, that I made, out in the world (currently in at least 11 different states). That motivates me.
Semicolon earrings, and now bracelets, are an incentive for my American Foundation for Suicide Prevention Out of the Darkness Community Walk fundraising team—Together We Cont;nue. For a minimum donation, you too can have a pair of semicolon earrings (or a bracelet), a symbol of hope that often sparks a conversation, which leads to more moments of connectivity, belonging, and people feeling seen.
What started as a way for me to slow down, relax, and find joy has launched into a country-wide effort to spread hope and raise money for suicide prevention. And you could even say I’ve “gone on the road with it”—well, on a podcast tour, if you will.
This year has been a year of amplifying my work, sharing my story, living a bold life, and if sharing my story can help someone feel less alone, provide access to support and understanding, well, I’m here and ready for it.
Wear Hope. Share Hope.
Nicole
P.S.
Want to join my fundraising/walk team? Consider yourself invited.
Want to hear my story on various podcasts? Here’s the link.
Want a podcast guest who can speak to 20 years of healing from suicide loss? Reach out - finchandfernWA@gmail.com
Looking for your very own Finch & Fern earrings? Everyday Line or Semicolon Line—I can’t wait to see you Wearing Hope and Sharing Hope.
Feel compelled to reach out and share your story? Email me at finchandfernWA@gmail.com
