Make Room for Making: Why Crafting Things Does More Than You Think

For all of those who know me well, the fact that I love making things is not a surprise. I love not only the satisfaction of seeing something completed, but also the challenge of learning something new. This goes well beyond gardening, sewing, crochet and cooking. I have taught myself to create webpages, built simple furniture, and with my husband we even built a kit studio and pool house. Making things, and sometimes repairing them, is very much part of who I am. If you have been reading my blog, you have probably come across the story of sewing my own jeans as a teenager without any sewing skills at all.

A few weeks ago, I came across a very interesting article that spoke about the health benefits of making things. The research it pointed to suggested that craft activities may support wellbeing by encouraging relaxation, concentration, creativity, social connection and a sense of achievement. More high quality research is still needed to establish how long these benefits last and who benefits most, but what I read left me pondering my own experience, and how making things has always been a way to step out from the demands of work and apply myself to something manual, something entirely within my own control, so that at the end of it, if I had produced something, I could feel a sense of accomplishment that was sometimes missing from my day to day job. It is really the same philosophy I first wrote about in The Lost Art of Making Things, just given some proper research to stand alongside it now.

What I found fascinating was how much truth there was in what I truly feel when I make things. When I crochet or sew, for instance, it is a genuine break from screens and constant information, a chance to lose myself in one manageable task, which matters even more for someone like me, who spent a career multitasking. I was discussing this very thing with a friend just a few days ago, the sense of progress and achievement, watching something take shape from nothing, the chance to express your own creativity, and the way sharing what you make with others becomes its own form of connection. I have taught my granddaughter to crochet, and it is lovely to have this creative thread in common with her, exchanging ideas and patterns the way you would with anyone who shares a genuine interest. Not to mention, it is a practical way to bring more purpose and pleasure into ordinary days.

What Counts as Making

When people think of making things, crochet, knitting or sewing often come to mind first, but the truth is that making covers a much wider territory than the traditional crafts. It includes embroidery and quilting and mending, painting, drawing and pottery, woodwork, gardening and cooking, paper crafts, journalling and bookmaking, upcycling, restoring and repairing, photography, filmmaking and other creative projects, and building, decorating and practical DIY around the home. If your hands are engaging with materials, ideas or processes, you are making, whatever that looks like.

And this is worth saying plainly, since it is often the very thing that stops people before they begin: making is not about being artistic, and it is certainly not about producing something perfect. It is about engaging actively with what is in front of you and being willing to see where that engagement takes you.

The Benefits of Making

Calm and stress relief. As I mentioned earlier, this is the benefit I notice most in my own life. There is something about the repetitive, tactile rhythm of handling yarn while crocheting that creates a genuine calm, and I do believe, from my own experience, that hands-on activities can shift your attention away from worry and settle you into the present moment. Winding down a stressful day with even half an hour of crochet, or cooking something a little more elaborate than usual, and I know not everybody finds cooking relaxing the way I do, genuinely brings me calm and lifts my mood. When the season allows it, even stepping out to tend the garden while I am working from home helps mark a proper transition between work and home. I am not suggesting this is any kind of treatment for stress or anxiety, only that I have seen the benefit in myself of having something practical that takes my mind off problems for a while.

Focus and mental engagement. Making things often asks for real attention, planning and a string of small decisions, reading instructions, remembering a sequence, judging a size, adapting when something inevitably goes wrong. A project does not need to be difficult to be worthwhile, sometimes something familiar is exactly what brings the calm, while a new technique offers a gentle kind of challenge instead. A few months ago, I completed a blanket built from a crochet pattern mimicking snowflakes. I knew every stitch involved, but I had never made that particular pattern before. I found it online, and although it looked complicated at first, after a few snowflakes I had memorised it and could repeat it over and over until the blanket was done. I even had to adapt the pattern myself, since the original was never intended to have its snowflakes joined together the way I wanted. That is really the whole benefit in miniature, something familiar, my own knowledge of the stitches, applied to something unfamiliar, adapted for my own purpose, and repeated until it became second nature.

Achievement and confidence. One of the most satisfying parts of making is watching an idea become something real. From sewing my first pair of jeans with no sewing skills at all, to slowly teaching myself to make cheese and discovering it was nowhere near as complicated as I had imagined, the sense of achievement in turning nothing into something is hard to put into words. The confidence that builds each time you repeat something you have already learned, with the same success or even more, does something to you that is difficult to describe fully. For years I have kept diaries of my gardening plans, recording my failures and successes as part of the learning itself. I remember, after several years of trying, finally managing to grow a handful of eggplants, and I could not believe it. Every earlier attempt, every careful note, every lesson learned, had paid off, and I do not think I have ever been prouder of myself over something so small. That habit of keeping a written record of the things I learned to make is something I have carried for years, and it is very likely the reason I created the Makers Diary, which I am now proud to share with others, itself another thing I learned to make.

Bottom line, it genuinely does not matter whether the project is big or small. Finishing or repairing a garment, baking a batch of biscuits, or getting a single garden bed to work, all of it can create that same sense of achievement.

Creativity and self-expression. It is easy to assume creativity belongs only to artists, or to people whose professions sit somewhere in the creative field, but self-expression is part of everybody's life, from the person choosing colours and textures for a garden bed to please their own eye, right through to any project made entirely for its own sake. Creative projects let people express their own personality, explore ideas and emotions they might not otherwise have a place for, make their surroundings feel more personal, preserve memories through objects and photographs, and turn ordinary or discarded materials into something entirely new. This is also exactly where upcycling belongs in this conversation. A damaged piece of furniture, an old garment, a box of leftover fabric scraps, any of these can become the genuine starting point for something creative, rather than simply being thrown away.

Purpose and meaningful routine. Lately I have come to appreciate how a regular making practice can give real structure to a week. My current big project, a crochet blanket for the caravan, has become a way to shape my days now that I no longer work full time. My working life used to be packed to the brim, but now, with that structure gone, my making time gives me a genuine sense of purpose, something to look forward to finishing, and it has helped me transition out of full time work while I adjust to whatever comes next. Making things, particularly things that travel easily or need very little in the way of tools, can be especially valuable during illness, periods of isolation or travel, but it is equally valuable through major life changes, or in my case, when paid work no longer provides the daily framework it once did. Starting or returning to a project gives you something to look forward to, a gentle routine governed by nobody but yourself, and in my case, a genuine way to stay connected to my own values. That sense of purpose can also grow even stronger when what you are making is not for yourself at all, since your hands are present and something of you is given away at the very same moment the finished piece is.

Connection and belonging. As a child, distance meant I did not get to spend much time with one of my grandmothers, but she was the one with all the practical skills, making pasta, crochet, sewing, and more. When I did visit, she would sit beside me to show me a crochet pattern, or explain how she had done a particular thing, or simply let me watch her hands move with a speed and precision that only comes from a lifetime of practice. Those moments became the way I connected with the nonna I saw far less often than the other, and they gave me some of my most treasured memories, cooking, crocheting, or simply admiring her at work. There is a particular quality to making things that draws you naturally toward people who share the same interest, and it tends to bring people together in a low pressure, unforced way, knitting and crochet circles, sewing and quilting groups, community gardens, art classes, repair cafés, craft workshops, online maker communities, sharing a project with family, or simply teaching a skill to someone else. Shared, hands-on activity also has a quiet advantage over conversation alone, since people working alongside each other do not need to maintain constant eye contact or invent something to talk about, they can simply work, and let ideas, stories and encouragement pass between them naturally.

I started learning properly at seven years old, walking to lessons a couple of afternoons a week at the local convent, where the nuns taught sewing, crochet and knitting to anyone who wanted to come. My very first finished project was a small handkerchief with a crochet border, made as a Mother's Day gift, and I still remember the pride of handing it over to her. Those afternoons were open to any child in the village who wanted to learn, which is really the whole point, making has never needed to be exclusive to be meaningful, it simply needs somewhere for people to gather and learn together.

Preserving memories and traditions. That same thread with my nonna carries into something else worth thinking about properly, since passing skills down between generations is not only about preserving family memory, but about keeping alive so many things that are at real risk of being lost. I remember making pomodoro sauce with the whole extended family, and gathering around a large wooden table with my nonna and her friends, all of them shaping orecchiette by hand together the way women in her town so often did, while I sat beside them trying to learn. These memories live on in the handmade things you keep, or that are gifted to you once someone is gone. I still have a crochet shawl my mother made for me as a teenager, and it is not only still worn, it lives proudly in my hobby room to remind me of her every time I sit down to sew or work on something there. The same is true of the crochet pieces my nonna made for my glory box. Passing on that same tradition is now my own gift to my grandchildren, my granddaughter's crochet and knitting lessons, and a blanket made for my grandson, in the hope that it keeps travelling down through the generations after me. Handmade things carry stories in a way that nothing mass produced ever quite manages to.

Making Does Not Have to Be Perfect

At this point, some of you might be thinking, this all sounds lovely, but I do not think I have the skills to make anything worth making. I want to address that clearly, because it is one of the biggest things standing between people and starting at all, the fear of not being creative, or simply not being good enough yet.

The truth is that everybody starts from nowhere. Remember the story of my jeans, sewn by someone with no sewing skills whatsoever. You only ever get better by doing the thing, badly at first if that is what it takes, since the process matters every bit as much as the finished object, and mistakes are simply part of learning rather than evidence you were never meant to try. Your project can stay entirely private and experimental if you want it to, there is no obligation to sell it, display it, or even show it to anyone at all. A handmade thing can be truly valuable even if it is imperfect, because it fulfilled something you wanted to do, and good enough can often be far more enjoyable than perfect ever was. When something is made for someone else, its value sits in a different place again, in the time and the care it so plainly shows. I have noticed, every time I have given something I made rather than something I bought, the person receiving it is deeply moved, not simply by the object itself, but by knowing that I chose to spend my own time and care making something specifically for them, rather than reaching for whatever was easiest.

Choosing the Right Activity

After all of this, it is worth talking about how to begin, and how to do it without feeling overwhelmed before you even start. Choose something that feels enjoyable or interesting to you, and think honestly about the space, materials and budget it will really need. Some activities ask for very little to begin, crochet, for instance, needs nothing more than a hook, some yarn, and someone or something to learn from, an online video is plenty. Others ask for more, learning to sew might only need a table, a second-hand machine and some fabric to start, still a modest beginning even if it looks like more equipment on paper.

Think too about how much time and, honestly, how much patience you are prepared to bring to it, since things can and will go wrong in the beginning, and I have seen people give up right at this point. If something becomes frustrating or is simply taking longer to master than you expected, it is always fine to put it down and come back another day. Consider too any physical factors that might shape your choice, problems with your hands, your wrists, your eyesight, or your general mobility, since the right activity is the one that truly suits you, not simply the one that looks appealing from the outside. And think about whether you are someone who prefers solitude or company while you work, and whether what you are looking for is relaxation, a challenge, usefulness, or simply a chance to express yourself.

Possible beginner-friendly options:

• Simple crochet squares
• Basic knitted scarves or dishcloths
• Visible mending
• Container gardening
• Collage
• Simple baking
• Repurposing jars, fabric or furniture
• Sketching or photography walks

A simple starting plan:

1. Choose one activity that appeals to you
2. Start with a small project that can be finished relatively quickly
3. Gather only the basic materials you really need
4. Set aside a regular but realistic amount of time
5. Use a beginner tutorial, a class, or a supportive group
6. Stop before the activity becomes painful or exhausting
7. Notice how the process makes you feel, rather than judging the result

A Realistic Note on Wellbeing

A 2025 systematic review published in the Australian Occupational Therapy Journal looked closely at craft-based interventions and their effect on mental health and wellbeing and found that craft activities may support short term improvements in mood, stress, self-esteem, social connection and general wellbeing, though the quality and type of studies involved still varies considerably. Surveys of knitters and crocheters report similar things in their own words, feelings of calm, happiness and usefulness, though personal accounts like these cannot prove the same experience holds true for everyone. Making things should sit alongside professional support, never replace it, for anyone experiencing persistent anxiety, depression, pain or other health difficulties.

Conclusion: Make Room for Making

Coming back to where I started, reading about the connection between making and wellbeing while reflecting on my own life, so much of what the research described genuinely resonated with me. I do believe making is worthwhile even when the finished object is small, imperfect, or never used again. Making gives us more than an object to show for our time. It gives us time spent paying attention, learning, imagining and caring, and in a busy world, that may be one of the simplest ways there is to bring a little more meaning into an ordinary day.

So here is my gentle invitation, choose one small thing to make this week, and let yourself begin without any aim toward perfection at all. If you would like a place to keep track of what you make, and what you learn along the way, exactly the kind of habit that started all of this for me, my own Makers Diary was built for precisely that.