:: julie's first day out ::

four strange and unusual things i did this morning:

1. i showered. i showered even though i showered yesterday. i did this because crap! i am going to see actual people today! every-other-day showering is for people who work at home, damnit!
2. i packed a lunch. kinda. i'm way out of practice on this and really more like threw some food into some containers and put it all in a wegman's bag and who knows if there's enough food or too much or what.
3. i stopped at starbucks because i've got a gift card and i stood in line and i did this weird internal dance to the tune of "i'm a commuter commuting to my studio that is not in my house and i'm standing in line at starbucks with other people who are commuting to places of employment that are not in their houses."
4. i packed my laptop into an ill-fitting laptop bag because, oh, did i mention, i'm not going to be at my house today, and being not-at-my-house will not work so effectively without my laptop.

and also, two things i would normally be doing today that i kind of forgot i won't be able to do today from not-at-my-house and hmm, this is going to take some getting used to:

1. laundry. i have at least three full loads to do and usually i'd sort of throw one in here and there throughout my at-home workday. need a new plan. your advice is welcome.
2. make pizza dough. also not going to be possible from the studio. which means that dinner tonight? i'm going to have to figure something out. more advice welcome.

this is going to be weird. good-weird, but weird.

:: on the importance of disappointment ::

i realize this may be a little bit too much info for some of my readers, but i promise i won't dwell on it long.

emily was conceived on our first try. we had kind of talked about another baby a little bit here and there and then one saturday afternoon, on a hike with evan, we decided that it would be OK to start trying to have another baby, figuring that it might take a little while and that by the time the baby would be born, evan would be 3 or so.

cut to me, two weeks later, peeing on a stick and running sneakily out to the kitchen to brian to show him and ask, "could this even be possible?" and possible it apparently was.

hormonal teenagers take note: it can happen on the first try.

we were excited, of course of course,  but i also remember thinking that there's a very good thing about having to try for a few months before a baby is conceived: the disappointment of not being pregnant a few times solidifies in your minds that you really really want to have a baby. when the baby just appears in your belly without any prior disappointments, it can be jarring. even confusing.

which is why on monday of this week, i started looking for studio space despite all of the unsureness i was feeling on sunday. i decided that the only way to know for sure how i felt about it was to look and to either fall in love with the idea or not fall in love with it. i decided that i would look and force myself to suffer the possible euphoria and disappointment that would come and that would help me know whether to go for it or not.

the first space i fell in love with was smaller than my attic. the price was ohsoright, but smaller? that's a no go. and there it was: real, true disappointment.

the second space i considered was far too expensive and while it was close to the kids' babysitter's house, it was surrounded by accounting firms and medical offices. and yet: even more disappointment.

by the end of the week it was abundantly clear: whatever i feel about going full-time (still not ready) and hiring an employee (ditto), i am completely ready to take the next step and move this gig out of the attic -- where i bump my head on the ceiling each time i stand at my paper cutter -- and out into the world.

the place i settled on is ridiculously perfect even in its imperfection. it's a room of its own, with ceilings that i couldn't even hit my head on if i drank fizzy lifting drink, settled snugly into a corner of the space shared by booksmart studio, pistachio press, and a small cadre of other artists. i feel like it should be called "both-and studio" because it's both separate and connected, both private and shared, both mine and not mine, both still-just-me and not-still-just-me.

i move in january.

:: much obliged: a survey ::

stopping by the blog briefly to let you know that my survey is up -- even if you didn't partake in the september name-your-price experiment, i'd love your feedback on the whole thing.

it's short. and it includes a lameness/awesomeness scale. betcha haven't seen one of those recently. or ever.

find it here. much obliged. over and out.

:: mine all mine ::

sometimes things happen. and sometimes they weren't the things that were supposed to happen. but sometimes, even then, you're so glad.

a few weeks ago, back in early august i guess, it was looking like i was about to get a pretty serious slew of wholesale orders for my 2012 illustrated desk calendar. and i was excited and nervous. i had shops around the country telling me they wanted to order.

and then none. of the orders. came in. not one single order. not even the one from kate's paperie, which i'll admit, i was pretty excited about. and i followed up with everyone, and everyone told me not right now (for various reasons).

but the really surprising thing was that i was kind of relieved. in fact, i was actually glad. because pricing those puppies for wholesale was soul-sucking. pricing them to cover their costs and my time making them, and then knowing that i'd have to sell them in my shop for TWICE that in order not to undercut the stores that would be doing the same? it sucked. i hated it. i didn't even include any profit for myself beyond paying me for my time.

worse, i did not like their price, but i knew that the only way to reduce the price would be to print them in some crappier way or to outsource the printing altogether or to stop using the ridiculously awesome stands i had made for them from honest-to-god reclaimed-from-the-actual-sign-shop-garbage polystyrene by an excellent woman in baltimore.

and i liked those ideas even LESS than the idea of pricing high, so i priced high.

and when none of those wholesale orders came in, i did a little internal rejoicing. i somehow feel a bit like the calendars are mine again. having them out in shops means i can't change them or their price. it feels like not really owning them.

i'm surprised to feel that way, and not surprised at the same time.

but the best news of all is my news for you: my illustrated desk calendars just got a lot more affordable (and more profitable for me all at the same time!) for just the same exact amount of awesomeness. so yay for that.

:: as drawn in and through me ::

i drew this up quickly this morning, in a mad rush of gotta-get-this-down, and i'll grant that it's a bit hard to read and that the photo (iphone) is a bit blurred and dark, but i had to share it. it's my lightbulb-moment flash-of-genius understanding of my business. as drawn in and through me. click to see the image larger.

it's september, which for the eternal student here means it's time for reflecting on where i've been and where i'm going. and usually i sort of keep the reflection to the recent past -- no more than the last year -- but today i'm extra thinky about the further-back past.

this past year has been such a weird one. it was just about exactly this time last year that i found out i was going to be featured in brides magazine, and in the time since then i've done all kinds of stuff with an eye towards building my business.

i don't use a lot of capitals around here, not really sure why other than honest-to-god aesthetics, but that really ought to be capital-b building my capital-b-business, or at least that's how it has felt.

as i've suggested a bunch lately, it has felt a little bit wrong, the building.

and as a result of the wrong-feelingness, the growth of the biz has actually slowed.

which has me thinking about the beginning. the first decision to start up up creative, the first impulses that drove me, the first things i did, the first time i got awesome feedback, the first time i put something out into the word that i really loved and was excited to share.

here are the things i sold on my first day open for business. november 2, 2008.

and i was so so so beyond so excited. and now here i am. still creating other things that just make me want to put them out into the world. to get them into someone else's hands and then to hear their giddy exclamations.

that's the part i live for. it's the center of my business and the center of me.

for a creative biz with a name that isn't the artist's name (i.e. this business is called up up creative, not julie green), i'm discovering that this is a business that works best when i am true to the me-ness of it. when i make decisions driven by my gut. when i create things that make me feel so good and then i pass that good-feeling thing along to someone else to feel good.

i've spent a lot of time trying to come up with a manifesto of sorts. i've been craving a manifesto, actually, which is a big part of what drove the great name-your-price experiment (which is going well, by the way. go check it out). i've been trying to think about what i believe and what my business's core principles are.

and i always get stuck. i easily come up with my own core principles, but i always struggle to come up with my business's core principles.

because right? doesn't it seem like they're not really supposed to be the same? or at least that the business ones shouldn't be so, i don't know, personal?

but i don't know how to come up with principles that don't start from inside my own gut. all i really know is that i started this thing because i needed to make things and i needed those things to make me feel awesome and i needed them to make other people feel awesome. and sometimes i feel like doing one thing and sometimes i feel like doing something else. i am changeable. i like to try new things. i sold a quilt and two necklaces and a calendar on my first day in business forgodssake. i like to challenge the status quo and break the rules. i like to do things my way. if something isn't making me downright-dreadfully-happy (and here dreadfully is a good thing, i believe), i don't want to do it anymore.

which is kind of a weird way to run a business.

but so what. it's how i run mine. and business plans and industry conventions and shoulds be damned, it's how i'm going to keep running it.

so whaddaya think about that? (no, really. tell me. leave comments. email me. sky write a message. i want to hear from you today, please.)

:: hooray! my name-your-price wedding experiment is here! ::

it's here. september first. that means the name-your-price experiment officially launches today. 

i did a little sneak preview yesterday and the response was so wonderfully wonderful i don't even know what to say. the emails i got. the comments on the introductory post over at a practical wedding.

i woke up a few times in the night just from excitement.

i'm going to be doing some interviews and such throughout the month, getting out there talking about the experiment and the concepts behind it and all. i'll be sure to share those as they happen so you can keep up.

and if you'd like to read some awesome introductions, i'd recommend these:

intro at a practical wedding

intro at the thirty something bride

intro on my site, upupcreative.com

if you're an artist or designer or maker, i definitely recommend you read through the 60+ comments on the practical wedding post. really cool conversation going on, and seriously awesome points raised. the experiment could FLOP and i would already feel like i got so much out of it just from the comments on that post.

so enjoy. and please! participate in the experiment! whether you need wedding invitations or invitations for something else (birthday parties, holiday parties, baby showers, etc.), now's the time to pay what you can.

:: in which i go on and on about my awesomeness ::

across the table from me, a tiny red headed child is shouting into her empty fruit bowl, so excuse me if this blog post is any of the following:

• confusing
• disjointed
• juvenile
• sticky (from the fruit)

once snack time is over we're headed into the playroom to "play" (by which i mean emily is going to play and i am going to surreptitiously remove toys from the toy bins (some toys destined for storage to be brought out again later to much delight, some toys destined for donation to be used for the delighting of stranger-kids) because it is getting insane in there and brother's at school and emily is a far less vigilant mom watcher than her big brother.

i'm just popping in to say hi and thanks for all your comments on the last post. i found the responses (both private and in the form of comments on the post) to be surprising. some folks thought i was being tough on myself and i so totally didn't see it that way or intend it to be that way. i guess i just wanted to explain my silence around here and also, probably more than that, attempt in some convoluted way to break the silence.

if i haven't said it, i'll say it now: i think i'm doing a pretty awesome job building this business. i'm proud of myself and proud of the business and i think i'm doing okay at handling the continual dual-tug of family and work. i mean, i could certainly use a break, but who couldn't?

but despite how awesome i think i'm doing with all of this, or i guess probably because of how awesome i feel things are going, i'm frustrated. frustrated that my family financial situation is so sucky. frustrated that i have goals i want to achieve that i feel like i need to hold off on to focus more on the daily-grind of things. frustrated that i am still in my attic.

the frustration is what fuels the awesomeness. it sucks, but it's true. i build this thing day by day, bit by bit, because i'm frustrated.

so that's that. and yeah, i think i'm back now. i think i've broken the blogging silence.

off to sneak toys away from my children now. over and out.