Do you ever hesitate to start stitching because you’re worried about making mistakes?
I understand that feeling — really, I do. The fabric is there, the threads are ready, you have time... and yet something holds you back.
Maybe it's the fear of wasting materials. Maybe it's not quite trusting that you know what you're doing. Maybe it's the nagging thought that if you get it wrong, it'll prove something you'd rather not prove.
If that sounds familiar, come sit with me for a moment. I want to tell you about something that changed how I approach embroidery: the humble sampler.
An embroidery stitch sampler is simply a piece of fabric where you practice, experiment, and play—without any pressure to create something "finished."
Think of it as a doodle pad for your needle. A space where mistakes aren't mistakes at all; they're just stitches you learned from.
Playing with stem, chain, herringbone, blanket and french knot stitches worked in different threadsTraditionally, samplers were made by children to demonstrate the stitches they'd mastered—a kind of stitched portfolio for young embroiderers. Imagine having to prove your worth with a row of perfect French knots. (I'm stressed just thinking about it.)
Thankfully, your sampler doesn't need to impress anyone. It's not a test. It's not going to be framed or judged or shown to your critical aunt. It's yours, and it can be as messy, experimental, and imperfect as you like.
I remember my first attempt at a sampler. I felt nervous about "getting it wrong"—which seems funny now, because there's genuinely no wrong way to do it.
But when I finally gave myself permission to just stitch, using scraps of cloth and odd lengths of thread with no plan at all, something shifted. It became freeing. And to my surprise, it turned into something I actually loved looking at—not because it was perfect, but because it was mine.
Here's what I've found, over years of stitching: a sampler does more for your confidence than any tutorial or book.
It gives your hands time to learn. Reading about a stitch is one thing. Watching a video is another. But actually working the stitch, feeling how the thread moves, noticing where your tension goes tight or loose — that's where the real learning happens. Your sampler is where your hands figure things out.
It takes the pressure off your "real" projects. When you try a new stitch on a sampler first, you're not risking your good fabric or your carefully planned design. You can make a complete hash of it, learn what went wrong, and try again. Nobody will ever see it unless you want them to.
It becomes your personal reference library. Every stitch you try on your sampler is one you'll recognise later. When you're planning a future project, you can look back and think, "Ah yes, that's how herringbone looks when I use two strands versus four." It's more useful than any stitch dictionary because it shows how you work, with your hands, on your fabric.
It reminds you that imperfect is fine. Maybe the most valuable thing about a sampler is this: it teaches you, stitch by stitch, that wobbly is okay. That uneven is okay. That "not quite what I intended" is okay. Over time, you start to believe it.

Here's what I really want you to hear: your sampler is a private space for experimentation. It doesn't need to be pretty. In fact, messy is better—it means you're actually using it.
That row of herringbone that went a bit wonky? That's information.
Those French knots that look more like tiny lumps than elegant dots? You're learning something about tension.
The experimental bit where you tried mixing threads of completely different weights? Now you know what that looks like.
Even the stitches that didn't work hold value. They're proof that you tried something. They tell a story of curiosity, of willingness to experiment. And honestly, some of my favourite parts of my own samplers are the "mistakes" — the happy accidents that became textures I'd never have discovered on purpose.
When you let go of structure and just stitch, something lovely happens. You're free to try combinations that might not "make sense." You can mix threads of different thicknesses, blend colours that clash, stitch in spirals or zigzags or complete chaos.
Try incorporating a chain stitch and see how it adds texture. Then try it again with a thicker thread. Then try linking it with something else entirely. See what happens when you don't plan — you might stumble upon a new effect that becomes your signature.
You don't need to stitch in neat rows or straight lines. Your sampler can be a swirling mess of colour, a patchwork of experiments, a completely random doodle.
It can be as meaningful as the most intricate design, or it can mean nothing at all except "I wanted to see what this looked like."
Both are valid. Both are worthwhile.
If you're feeling inspired to begin your own sampler, here are a few gentle suggestions:
You'll gain experience with every stitch, and you might find yourself returning to your sampler later to build on those early attempts. Or you might start a new one. There are no rules here.
Over time, your sampler will become something rather lovely: a visual diary of your creative journey, written with thread instead of words.
Each section will tell a story of what you were exploring at the time. The first tentative attempts at French knots. The unexpected joy of discovering a stitch you love. The messy experiments that didn't quite work out but taught you something anyway.
When you look back, you'll see how far you've come. You might find inspiration in those early stitches — an unfinished idea you want to revisit, a texture you'd like to try again, a "mistake" that turned out to be a happy accident worth repeating.
Your embroidery stitch sampler is a celebration of trying, exploring, and discovering. Every stitch — whether tidy or wobbly — adds to your story as a stitcher.
So grab some cloth, pick up your needle, and see where it takes you. There's no wrong way to do this. There's only your way.
And if you find you love the freedom of stitching without a pattern, you might enjoy exploring slow stitching—the art of taking your time, following your instincts, and letting the process be the point.
The best sampler is the one you actually use. It doesn't need to be beautiful. It just needs to be yours.
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