There’s a moment in every logo design process where a client expects me to open a design program and start creating. What I actually do first looks nothing like that.
Before a single concept is sketched, I send a detailed intake questionnaire. It covers the obvious things — what the business does, who the customers are, what colors feel right. But the questions I care most about are the ones that get at something harder to name. What’s shifting? What no longer fits? What does this business want people to feel when they encounter it?
The answers to those questions are where every good design decision comes from.
The questionnaire isn’t a formality — it’s the first real conversation. I read every answer carefully before we ever get on a call, because what someone chooses to write down, and how they write it, tells me as much as what they say out loud.
I’m looking for tension. A business that’s grown beyond its original identity. A founder who describes their brand one way but their customers another. A vision that’s bigger than the current logo suggests. That tension is where the design work lives.
After the intake, we schedule a discovery call. This is where I listen more than I talk. I want to understand not just what a client wants, but what they’re really trying to build — and who they’re trying to reach. Sometimes what comes up in that conversation completely reframes what I thought I understood from the questionnaire. That’s exactly why the call matters.
Once I’ve done the listening, I sketch. I bring three distinct directions to the table — not variations on one idea, but genuinely different approaches to solving the same problem. This matters because it gives a client something real to react to. It’s much easier to say “this one, but warmer” or “I love this mark but not this font” than to describe what you want from scratch.
That reaction is information. It tells me what’s resonating and what isn’t, which makes the next round sharper and faster.
From three directions, we choose one and refine it. This is where the details get resolved — the spacing, the weight, the way the mark scales down to a favicon or up to a sign. Round three is the final. By that point, we’ve done enough listening and enough iterating that the result feels inevitable rather than arbitrary.
That’s the goal. A logo that looks like it couldn’t have been any other way.
I’ve seen what happens when this work gets skipped. A logo gets designed quickly, looks fine on screen, and then slowly starts to feel wrong — because it was never really connected to what the business is trying to say. The design wasn’t bad. The foundation just wasn’t there. For some clients, this also means working through a brand narrative framework like StoryBrand to make sure the messaging is as clear as the visuals.
When Gibson Home Services came to me after ten years in business, we didn’t just redesign a logo. We worked through exactly who they were, who they served, and what they wanted people to feel. The result was a brand identity that could carry everything built on top of it — print ads, referral cards, social media, a newsletter — and still feel consistent years later.
When Wildsmith at Home launched from scratch, the same process meant that every element — the logo, the website, the weekly social posts — came from the same clear understanding of who Jessica is and what she’s offering. It held together from day one because the foundation was right.
If you’ve ever hired someone who jumped straight to showing you concepts without asking many questions, you know how that tends to go. The concepts feel generic because they are — they weren’t built from an understanding of your business, they were built from assumptions about it.
The intake form, the discovery call, the three directions — none of it is overhead. It’s the work. The logo is just where it ends up.
If your brand has been running on autopilot and you’re not sure it still fits what you’ve built, I’d love to have that conversation.
