I haven’t had much time for building (or writing) this month as I’ve been pretty busy in the Mojave Desert. Currently at a weekend of stunt driving school with my friend Adam, slotted between runs of desert tortoise conservation work.1
The tortoise work I’m assisting with consists of trekking to random points, logging data, recording tortoise finds, and—primarily—counting ravens, as ravens have discovered that baby tortoises are delicious. The stunt driving consists of stunt driving and is just for funsies,2 but the two are connected, in that the raven counting is paying for the stunt driving.3
As often seems to be the case, I’m in one place but looking over my shoulder at another, and so my time on the road has my mind on projects back home. I’ve got a backlog of minor woodworking I’d like to get to, and at the forefront has been furniture.
Now, I’m not a good furniture maker. Oh, I’ve managed to sell a couple of decent pieces as of late (with the rationale that the imperfections are just proof it wasn’t bought at Ikea), but my earlier work was downright shitty—I’ve screwed milk crates together, made a daybed from an old door, used threaded pipe for legs more than a few times, and leaned heavily on plywood and pine boards. Even as the fit and finish of my work has improved, the vast majority of my creations have been functional above all else. And that’s just fine.
Having built plenty of my own furnishings, and helped friends dip their toes into similar waters, I’ve seen that everyone—builder, friends, spouse—is just so impressed that an object exists, they look right past the many imperfections. The BIY badge of honor brings FAR more leniency to the quality front than you might imagine.
This realization really unlocked for me when Molly and I moved into a new house a few years ago. The quirky proportions demanded a lot of new furniture and rather than buy, I built. A lot. It began to feel like a minor superpower, filling out a space with right-sized objects, emboldened by the awareness that they’re probably just a first attempt.

Furniture shopping is often a frustrating experience for me.4 There are some desirable pieces out there, obviously. But usually my constraints of size, aesthetics, and price point—for something that likely serves a pretty basic function—makes too much hassle of what will surely end as a defeating compromise.

Molly and I went through much of this with our first cabin build and, given its small size and specific needs, most of what we bought never felt all that satisfying nor cohesive. In contrast, on our latest cabin build I made everything, and that’s a major facet of the joy I feel with that project—even if the daybed is sort of uncomfortable and already begging for a refresh.

To create the objects that make a space and skip the hunt for just the right piece of bullshit on Wayfair is… amazing. And the realization that it doesn’t have to be perfect to be loved—and mostly just has to probably-not-break-immediately—is empowering.
It’s not terribly hard. Most people can figure out how to make some version of a bench, stool, shelf, or whatever.
It won’t necessarily be cheaper.5 Or higher quality. Not at first. But it’ll have a story and it will function. Hopefully. And the satisfaction that you created it, plus the possibility of applying some lessons learned to version 2.0, more than make up for any objective shortcomings.
Or, in the sage words of Ryan, my stunt driving instructor, “Sometimes you accidentally smash your tail light on a barricade, and that’s okay. Spin the tires and keep going—they probably love it and it all looks great on camera.”6
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I’ll probably write at length about one or both of these things at a later date.
I’m not trying to break into the industry, but I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a part of me that hopes to get the call, just once. Hope you’re listening, Hollywood.
One of those sentences I’m very grateful to be able to write.
This goes beyond large furniture to furnishings. Shelves, dividers, storage boxes, shoe racks, etc. When trying to organize a small-ish space all these things need to be just the right size and shopping for them is a pain.
Slapping together chunks of hardware store softwood and plywood can be pretty cheap. But, if you don’t sew, custom cushions are costly no matter how you slice it. Ask around sewing and upholstery shops. You can try Etsy vendors, but I’ve had mixed results. An approachable middle ground is shopping for pre-made cushions, (or slipcovers and raw foam) and building furniture to fit them. Home Depot, Target, Amazon, etc all sell tons of cheap cushions in every imaginable size.
Yes, he really said this.
Your skillset knows no bounds—a builder of all things *and* tight essays!
We're embarking on this mission for a couch right now. I saw that one cushion was from Etsy. Did you have it custom ordered? I'm cushion curious.