A note before I start — this is my experience. I'm not speaking for every vendor out there. Just me, my cards, and my AuDHD brain trying to make it all work.

Finding the Right Market
First you have to find one. I search for markets within my budget and within Calgary — I haven't done one outside the city yet, though that's on the horizon. I sell handmade cards for $10 each, so markets charging $200 or more in vendor fees aren't worth attempting. And honestly it's getting harder to find affordable ones. As markets become more popular I think some people have figured out there's real money in running them — but that's a whole other blog post. 😄
Once I find one worth applying to, I submit my application and then I wait. The waiting is its own kind of anxious. Will they want me? Do I fit? Am I the right vendor for their market? I'm choosy about where I apply — I want markets that genuinely want to help makers get their products out there, not just fill vendor spots.
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Getting Accepted and Getting Ready
Once I'm in, it's payment, vendor information, layout details — things like electricity, wifi availability, what payment methods are accepted. Then the real work begins.
Making the cards.
This takes days. Sometimes more than days. I always want enough — I never want to sell out completely. So I make a lot. Then I'll sell out of one or two designs and think I should have made more of those. But every market is different. A card that flies off the table at one market might not move at another.
Time planning is actually a strong suit of mine. Sticking to the schedule? Thank you AuDHD for that one. 😁
Then it's the setup. Making sure I have everything. My table, my display, my card rack — which I bought so more people could shop at the same time without crowding. I've learned to always ask before bringing it though, because spacing varies wildly depending on the venue. At my last market I got the okay in advance, arrived, looked at the space and realized it just wasn't going to work. So I carried it back to my car, parked a few blocks away.
That's just part of it. Parking, load in, load out — you figure it out as you go.
Setting up always takes longer than taking down. Like putting up a Christmas tree. 

Working the Market
Then you work it.
Smiling. Engaging. Trying to find that limited window where you have someone's attention and make it count.
I like people. I'm just not good at small talk. I've noticed I have a monologue I say to almost everyone — at my last market I realized some other vendors do the same thing. Maybe that's just what we all do when we're trying to connect with strangers across a table.
When it works — when someone listens, falls in love with the cards, gets it — it's amazing. You feel like what you're doing actually matters.
When it doesn't — when someone smiles politely and walks away — I hear a little crack in my chest. I question myself. Wonder what I did wrong. Think about what I could do differently.
Then the next person comes along and they're interested and I'm joyous and grateful all over again.
Each market is a rollercoaster of emotions. By the end I'm usually grateful for having been there — for the people I connected with, the conversations that surprised me, the moments where I felt like I belonged. And others where I felt like the odd duck out. Both happen. Every time.

The Recovery
What most people don't see is what happens after.
For me, a market takes days to recover from. The emotional highs and lows, the small talk, the constant engagement — it's physically and mentally exhausting in a way that's hard to explain unless you've felt it. My AuDHD brain runs hot at markets and needs serious quiet time afterward to come back to baseline.
This is also why I'm choosy. I've gone from avoiding markets entirely to doing two or three a year. For me that's a win.

The Moments That Make It All Worth It
​And then there are the moments that make all of it worth it in a completely different way. At my last two markets, people have actually come up to my table with excitement saying they heard I was going to be there. Someone said "oh I've seen you on Instagram." Another person said "oh you're on IG — I need to let so and so know" and when they went to tag their friend, their friend already followed me.
If I'd never been brave enough to do markets, I never would have heard any of that. It's fricken amazing.
It costs something to show up that fully. But it's also where I get to see my cards in people's hands. Where someone picks one up, reads it, laughs, and says this is exactly what I was looking for.
Worth every crack in the chest to get there. 🌱
— Anita

When I'm at a market or restocking cards in a store, I watch people walking around shopping and I am absolutely, one hundred percent trying to psychically will them to come and look at my cards.

I'm not even embarrassed to admit that.

I'm standing there thinking — come on, just come over. They'll grow flowers. They're kinder to the earth. You're getting more than just a card. And hey, they're funny too.

When someone picks one up and reads it, my whole body holds its breath. And when they put it back down and walk away — it breaks my heart a little. Every single time. Then the whole process starts again with the next person.
It's honestly exhausting. 😄

But when someone finds exactly what they're looking for? Or asks me for something I don't have yet and I get to say "thank you, I'll make that" — that's everything. I don't want to disappoint anyone who needs a card. I want to be able to serve everyone who walks up.

That's what handmade means to me. Not just making things. Caring about who they're for.

When you pick up one of my cards — even if you put it back down — know that someone in a basement in Calgary made it carefully and hoped it would find the right person.
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Maybe that person is you. 🌱
— Anita

The Ones that Feel Like Me
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Blue has been my favourite colour since I was a little girl. I thought maybe I'd change my mind as an adult — pick something more sophisticated, more grown up. But here I am, still reaching for blue.
What I've learned about myself is that my eyes actually change colour depending on what I'm wearing. Blue outfit — blue eyes. Green outfit — green eyes. Sometimes grey. Growing up people would ask if I wore contact lenses. I didn't. That's just me.
I love all colours though. Even the ones that seem wrong at first — a muddy brown that looks terrible on its own but paired with the right complementary colours suddenly makes sense. That's the thing about colour. Context changes everything.
I'm drawn to loud, colourful prints. Clothes that make a statement. Patterns that say here I am. I've always been that way. It's taken me a long time to give myself the same permission in my art.
When I design cards I tend to play it safe with colour. Soft, natural, approachable. But the one time I really let loose — followed my gut, trusted my humour — I created my Friend card line. The cat cards. The ones that say exactly what you're thinking but would never say out loud.
They're my most popular cards now.
It took a while for the right people to find them. But they did. And that tells me something important about holding back versus showing up fully.
I'm still figuring out how to bring more of myself into my work. More colour. More boldness. More of the person who has always known exactly what she likes — she just hasn't always felt safe saying so.
I'm getting there. 🌱
— Anita

Paper Colours and Why I Choose Them

In my earlier years of card making, I always started with a white card base. Stamping or printing a sentiment inside the card always showed up nicely on white. I could also get a heavier cardstock in white than I could in other colours at the time. So white became my go-to — simple as that.
When I made the decision to start making seed paper cards, there was no other option in my mind than to order white. It's what I'd been doing for years and I loved how bright and clean it looked. I printed on white seed paper for my entire first year of making plantable cards.

Then something shifted. I don't really know what happened, but my eyes and brain just started to see it as too bright. I wanted something more natural — in the paper and in the envelope colours. I've always loved kraft coloured paper. So I made the switch. Natural coloured seed paper, kraft coloured envelopes to match.

Once I did, I knew I was never going back. The printing looked beautiful on the natural paper — warmer, more grounded, more like something that actually came from the earth.

Now don't get me wrong — white has its place. For handmade commission cards I'll still use a 100lb white cardstock when the occasion calls for it. But when it comes to my plantable cards, I want them to be as natural and earth friendly as possible.

It's about giving back to the earth as much as it is giving people something meaningful. I want everyone who receives one of my cards to feel as comfortable and sure about what they're getting as I am about what I'm providing.
That shift in paper colour was small. But it meant everything. 🌱
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— Anita

Hi, I'm Anita — the one person behind YYC Crafts and the voice behind Notes From the Basement.

I'll be upfront with you: I have a hard time explaining myself. My views on life have changed but don't ask me what they are exactly because I'll jump from topic to topic before I get there. That's just how my brain works. I've made peace with it.

What I can tell you is this — I put everyone else ahead of myself more than I should. I'm working on that. I really enjoy my business even though it's tough as hell doing it all alone sometimes. But that's also what makes it so rewarding.
This year I've listened to 60 books so far. A little bit of everything — I'm not fussy, I just love a well written story. I got my first tattoo last year and I'm already planning the next one.

I'm AuDHD, I run a handmade business from my basement in Calgary, and I'm figuring out who I am while also trying to make things that matter.
I do have one supervisor down here — Fuzz, my orange cat. He checks in throughout the day mostly to see if anything on the desk is worth knocking off it. He's not much help but he's excellent company.

Oh — and I can't concentrate without my noise cancelling headphones. It is seriously so fricken noisy in here sometimes.
Welcome to the basement. 🌱
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— Anita