I did something scary yesterday. As I hit “publish,” my heart was actually pounding in my chest and I took three deep breaths to slow its thumping.
I opened an Etsy store.
I know, not really so scary, right? Except it means I’m saying “I’m so good at something that you should buy it.” It’s hard for me to self-promote like that. Hard for me to believe that my work is worthy of a storefront. And it means that I accept that there’s a possibility it will fail.
Now, I have two choices: I can take every stat personally, every sale. I can calculate the ratio of dollars per stitch. I can be crushed if (when?) nobody buys anything. OR. Or I can focus on the value in the attempt. I can say, “Watch me try,” like I used to as a child. If you haven’t already, you must go read this piece by Planting Dandelions. She hits the nail on the head.
It cost me $1 to open my store and list the hats I’ve been making just for fun. Crochet is my self-care. It soothes my anxiety. I’m compulsively doing it anyway. So really, if the shop fails, I will have lost only $1 and a little bit of time. And so I hit “publish.”