Some days I sit in my little studio, look around at everything happening, and think, “How in the world did I get here?”
Fifteen years ago, I started making jewelry because I wanted a creative outlet and a way to work while still being present for my girls. I never had a big business plan. I definitely didn’t have investors, a fancy office or any idea what I was doing. I just had a love for creating things and a willingness to figure it out as I went.
And honestly, that is still pretty much how I’m doing it.
Behind Little Fish, it is mostly just one girl in her studio trying to wear every hat. I design the products, make jewelry, answer emails, photograph everything, pack orders, work events, talk to manufacturers, update the website and attempt to understand whatever new thing Shopify has decided to throw at me that day.
Some days I feel so proud of everything I have built. Other days I look around and wonder if I am completely crazy.
Right now, Little Fish is in this funny in-between stage. It isn’t the tiny business I started all those years ago, but it also isn’t yet the full lifestyle brand I have always imagined it could become.
And that leaves me with the big question: Do I keep doing what is comfortable and familiar, or do I take another leap?
The safe part of me says to stay where I am. Jewelry is what I know. It has carried Little Fish for years, and I am so grateful for that. Growing into apparel, accessories and all the other ideas swirling around in my head means more inventory, more decisions, more money and more opportunities to get something completely wrong.
But then there is the other part of me—the part that can already see what Little Fish could become.
I can picture the clothing, the scarves, the handbags the jewelry and all of the little pieces coming together into the coastal lifestyle brand I have dreamed about for years. That part makes me excited enough to keep going, even when I’m scared.
I think people sometimes see the finished product and assume there is a whole team behind it. The truth is much less glamorous. Most of the time, it is just me sitting in my studio with samples everywhere, too many tabs open on my computer and no one beside me to say, “Yes, Lissy, this is absolutely the right decision.”
That may be the hardest part of running a business mostly on your own. There isn’t always someone there to tell you when to leap—or when you may want to step away from the edge.
I don’t have the answer yet. I’m still standing somewhere between “Look how far you’ve come” and “Are you really ready to do this again?”
But maybe taking the next leap doesn’t have to mean having everything figured out. Maybe it is simply trusting the little idea that won’t leave you alone and taking one small step toward it.
So that is where I am right now: one girl in her little studio, surrounded by ideas, trying to decide how brave she is ready to be.
And I have a feeling I may already know the answer. 🤍