:: on why i'm not blogging (at least for now) ::

i blogged here regularly for almost six straight years - sometimes daily, sometimes less than that, but i was here often and happily.

and then this summer i just stopped writing.

for better or for worse i came to see that blogging was taking away from my ability - and my need - to communicate directly with the people in my life. i would put everything all on the line here on the blog and then sort of blindly hope that the people who i needed to know those things would read them, understand what they meant for me and for them, and respond in some appreciable and appropriate way.

and it does work that way sometimes. sometimes i write here about the things i find it really hard to say in real life, and then the right people read those things and eventually sort of find a quiet moment to tell me everything is okay or what i am feeling is normal or that they are feeling it, too.

mostly, though, it was other people - not the ones i was trying to kind of telepathically communicate with - who would pull me aside (literally or over email or whatever) and say that what i'd written had touched them and they found me brave and whatnot.

it will be those people who will bring me back to blogging if and when i return. it's those people who make me feel like blogging brings me closer to having some kind of meaning or purpose in my life. for whatever reason i'm blessed with a certain vulnerability and willingness to share that vulnerability, and i do feel like that vulnerability is the key to how i connect with and can help better the lives of other people.

but i've come to think that even though blogging honestly the way i do looks like bravery to a lot of people, for me it became a way of making myself less vulnerable and therefore less  brave. it makes me - has made me - less capable of being vulnerable with real people in face-to-face communication. i feel that is robbing me of something i need and that the people i love need from me.

blogging can't be my own means of communicating with the people in my day-to-day life. it can't be a surrogate for talking about what's happening in my life, how i'm feeling about it, etc., because it's too one-directional. i need to rekindle my ability to participate in bi-directional communication.

so i'm taking some time off. i'm not sure how or when i'll be back, but i do feel like i will want to eventually. i feel like i'll want to keep on making those crucial, vulnerable, brave connections with people i don't know. like i'll want to continue encouraging people to get the yucky stuff OUT into the world instead of inside their heads, and encouraging that by doing it. but i can't keep doing it at the expense of being able to get the yucky stuff OUT into my own daily world, if that makes any sense.

i've missed blogging the last few months, but i've also surprisingly not missed it. i haven't felt compelled to do it the way i used to.

am i communicating better in my life? maybe yes, maybe no. but at least i feel like i'm not doing the kind of indirect, smoke-and-mirrors faux-communicating i was doing before, writing all kinds of things and just hoping they'd magically get to their right recipients. so at least there's that.

see ya when i see ya.

(and if you want to keep up with my non-personal-business-y stuff, there's always the shop blog and my up up creative facebook page).

:: what if? ::

so here's a question that's been asking itself in my head since last i wrote: what if i'm not depressed? what if i'm just ridiculously, chronically, exhaustingly, painfully stressed out?

or, what if i am depressed, but what if it's because i'm ridiculously, chronically, exhaustingly, painfully stressed out?

it's a worthy and empowering thought anyway.

:: oh the things i'll achieve! ::

i find that the older i get, the more depressed i get.

strangely, though, i don't actually feel like my sads are particularly sadder than before, nor do i feel like i spend any less time happy than i did before, which is weird. my joys are as joyous as they ever were. i laugh as much. i make people laugh as much. i still rock out to my favorite songs when they come on the radio. i still delight in the grand fireworks finale. but some physiological and mental set point seems to be falling lower and lower, and somewhat regularly now i find myself in full-on crisis. 

i make no claims to understand this, and even metaphors, which usually help me both understand and explain how i am feeling, seem to fail me here.

i'm still on anti-depressants, which i think are what allow me to be here and not some darker, scarier place. and i'm still in therapy, which certainly has helped me better understand some of my more maladaptive behaviors and thought patterns. but objectively speaking, i'm more depressed than i was, say, a year ago, at which point i was more depressed, i think, than i was a year prior to that. 

up until now i have adopted the position that if i was feeling depressed, i needed to make a major overhaul. i have always felt like that's what i've needed: drastic and overarching change. a clean slate. stop writing the dissertation. start a new business. put the kids in full-time daycare and work a more typical 9-5 M-F work week. transfer to a different college. drop out of a particular program. quit a certain job.

with each big change there comes a sense of sureness: yes. this was the right choice. hooray.

still to this day i believe that each of those choices was the right one. i have never been happier that i gave myself permission to stop writing my dissertation. leaving my corporate IT consulting job and moving home to rochester was surely the best choice for me. i was much happier at cornell than i was at chapel hill. i stand by every single decision. each one put me in a better place than i had been in before.

but what if i'm only getting it partially right?

i'm wicked smart and super motivated. what i put my mind to i achieve. i don't just go to grad school. i go to grad school in a field i do not have an undergraduate degree in, i bypass the MA with special permission and head straight into my phd coursework, and i spend two of my five years on prestigious, merit-based fellowships. i take my first job out of college with one of the "big five" consulting firms, which provides me with a signing bonus, a car and a per diem, and moves me to two states i've never lived in before over the course of just six months. i don't just open an etsy shop; i open an etsy shop, code my own e-commerce shop to sit alongside it, revamp that three times over three years, get featured in BRIDES and other prestigious magazines (did i mention that martha stewart living recently requested some of my things to photograph for a story that may or may not be forthcoming?). i don't just start working after realizing that i can't only be a stay-at-home mom, i start overworking. i try to work full time and stay home with them. then i put them in full-time daycare, but not without first starting a new business that has incredibly fierce demands on my time. i don't just transfer to cornell. i transfer after my first semester at unc and then proceed to graduate from college a full year early, with highest honors, and with a GPA that put me among the top 1% at the entire (ivy league) university. when i decide to start running i end up completing my first triathlon. 

i am, to put it mildly, an overachiever. 

which it occurs to me now might just be the problem. or if not the problem, a problem.

i've had two major and two minor breakdowns in the last four years. four occasions in the last four years when life's demands became too overwhelming for me to continue to function normally. i couldn't eat or sleep. i couldn't be around my kids. i basically could not do the things a person needs to do to get through a day.

and i feel another one coming on. not, like, this weekend or anything. but in the coming weeks or months.

which leads me to this: i am a firm believer that the things we do in the space of our recovery from these mental breakdowns can teach us something. they are, as in yoga, counterposes meant to bring our psyches back into a more balanced state. they play yin to the yang of whatever it is that has led to the mental breakdown.

in my recoveries, i've benefitted the most from the following: talking with other human beings, reading, writing, taking walks, sleeping, being creative, asking for help handling day-to-day stressors, and spending time alone, in the quiet, often outdoors.

and when i feel better? when i feel better and my recovery period is "over" i usually feel i've done three things:

1 - i've given myself permission to make whatever change it is i feel i need to make.

2 - i've sorted out some problem that has been gnawing at me.

3 - i've figured out some new direction to move in.

and then i move in that direction. swiftly and with determination. at which point i promptly stop: talking with other human beings, reading, writing, taking walks, sleeping as much, being creative, asking for help handling day-to-day stressors, and spending time alone, in the quiet, often outdoors. but change feels good, and success feels good, and so i feel good. i'm "better" and i'm so glad about it.

until it's too much and i fall apart all over again.

in november of last year i had an idea: i would start a print shop. and in february of this year, i started it, right alongside my other business. and by the end of 2012, that print shop will almost certainly gross more than $100,000. possibly even significantly more than that. by the end of its second year i expect it will gross in the quarter-million range.  if i can keep up with it. which already i can't. 

which is where the impending breakdown comes in. i can see already how it will happen. i'll continue to work like crazy, pushing the business to grow even as it has already outstripped me of my ability to keep up. i'll bring on new and awesome customers. i'll buy more equipment and continue to talk about hiring. i might even actually hire. i'll work evenings and weekends to stay relatively on top of things, even though i'll feel perpetually behind. and then some life stressor, like a sick child or a car accident or some other uncontrollable and disconcerting event, will reduce me to an anxious mess. i won't be able to eat or sleep. i'll spend my time taking xanax and watching teen dramas from the CW on netflix for weeks, at which point i'll substitute healthier behaviors like reading and doing puzzles for the xanax and teen dramas, taking a month off from work to recover.

i tell myself that i work the way i do because we need the money.

i tell myself that i work the way i do because i need to feel empowered.

i tell myself that i achieve things because i'm smart and achieving things comes easily to me.

all of this is true. 

we need the money, i need the sense of purpose and personal fulfillment, and achieving at high levels really does come naturally, and even easily, to me. but at a cost.

which of course makes me feel like i need to make some major, overarching changes. which then of course gets me already started thinking about the amazing things i'll be able to accomplish when i make those changes. perhaps i'll write a book about it or something. or become a guru like leo babauta of zen habits. when i stop being an over achiever, oh the things i'll achieve!

some things i know that are true:

i am working too hard now.

i am under too much stress.

i spend too much time thinking about how to be more successful.

i also spend too much time thinking about how to be happier.

i do not exercise enough.

i do not have enough leisure time.

i have too many things going.

i spend too little time doing the things that make me feel healthy.

i cannot keep up the pace i have established.

no one can.

but what can i do with all of this? knowing my own patterns of overexertion / burnout / breakdown / solace / overexertion / repeat, how can i intervene and change the cycle? how can i stop experiencing burnout? how can i stop having breakdowns? is there a place between overexertion and complete and utter solace that might be a healthier, more balanced place?

:: the road oft-traveled ::

i have officially reached the point in my business at which i need to hire an actual in-my-studio employee.

this is something i have been working toward for a long time. in some ways it was always part of the dream-slash-plan, but in an official spoken-aloud, fully-realized kind of way i've been thinking about it for about the last 13 months.

moving into my own studio, launching aper + pink, and making the move toward working full time have all been important steps along the way. now here i am.

and i'm not sure i want to do it.

there are the usual reasons - the strain + fear of becoming not just a creative being and a business owner but also a supervisor and manager; the burden of finding the right person; the hassle of hiring; the fear of possibly firing; the inability to let go; the added expenses of worker's compensation and taxes as well as things like a computer and a chair to sit on; the fear of being responsible for someone else's livelihood; the reality that i would have to pay my employee before i pay myself, which could be a big problem for my family if business income gets light. 

and there are also my own personal reasons - my really-quite-extraordinary need for solitude; my contrariness; my dislike for confrontation in even the mildest forms; the newly-won knowledge that my times of greatest mental-health-crisis are usually preceded by high stress; and perhaps most of all the very persistent fear that if i hire someone, i'll feel (and probably really be) less free. less free in my manner of working. less free to make crazy decisions. less free to take 180-degree turns in my business plan. less free to create. less free to listen to alix olsen in my studio.  less free to do this the way i want to do it.

if there's one thing that running up up creative (and now aper + pink) has given me over the years it's the sure sense that this can be whatever i need it to be at the time. i answer only to my family and my health.

part of what makes me able to come to work each day and slog through two hours of email and print seven orders and hit the post office on my way home and then do some graphic design at home at night is knowing that if tomorrow i don't want to do it, i don't have to. i can close up shop whenever i choose. i don't choose to, but knowing i could make that choice is part of the allure of the gig.

the truth is, i'm just not ready to hire someone. my business may be ready for me to do it, but i'm not.

but there are whispers in my head: what if i'm never ready? what does this mean for the plans? what does it mean for the way i conduct business now, given that the business is outgrowing me already?

i posted on facebook yesterday that i've been taking a minimalist approach to thinking about my business lately: i've been trying to identify the essential (essential for my happiness, for my bottom line, etc.) and then giving myself permission to eliminate the rest. my hope is that this will make it possible for me to make more space for the work i need and want to do without having to hire someone before i'm ready.

for example did you know that i have the following:

• a facebook page for up up creative
• a facebook page for aper + pink (set up, but not yet active)
• a personal facebook account
• a twitter account for up up creative
• a twitter account for aper + pink (set up but not yet active)
• a portfolio at behance (nothing there, i think)
• an account at dribbble (nothing there, i think)
• a portfolio in progress at upupcreative.com
• a pinterest account
• this blog
• a blog at upupcreative.com
• a blog/gallery at aperandpink.com
• an etsy shop
• a shopify shop
• jotform contact and order forms
• an x-cart shop in development for aper+ pink
• a big cartel account (with five shop items)
• ongoing design work for snapfish, minted, and glo
• greeting cards
• wrapping paper
• calendars
• wedding invitations + accompaniments
• a print shop for retail customers
• a print shop for resellers
• separate mailchimp lists for aper + pink, shopify, up up creative, and wholesale customers, 
• workflowy + asana accounts; dropbox, mozy, and yousendit accounts
• two paypal accounts
• at least six different email addresses
• and more!

this is not all necessary. it's not even all desirable. it's ridiculous is what it is. completely effing ridiculous.

things that must stay include this blog, pinterest, Facebook personal and Facebook business (one overarching business page should suffice though), print shop for resellers, one paypal account.

obvious things to go? the blogs at upupcreative and aperandpink, which i don't update anyway. twitter, which i don't use anymore. big cartel. greeting cards. behance and dribbble. 

but what else? what can i consolidate? what can i eliminate? what pays the bills and what doesn't? what adds extra time and expense? what weighs me down? 

i'm in pare-down town, friends. travel recommendations welcome.

:: advice versus wisdom ::

big shock here: i don't ask for advice.

my therapist has her theories about this, which are so obvious they're probably right. but the important thing is that i don't ask. ever. and furthermore, i don't even discuss what i'm thinking, so that my decisions - even the biggest decisions - seem to drop into the laps of my friends and family without even a warning. my ideas appear to hatch from me, fully formed.

so my therapist suggested that i just experiment a little bit with asking for advice. see how it feels. and since i'm learning that people's suggestions are often quite helpful if i'm willing to admit that, i decided to try.

trouble is, i feel like when i ask for advice what i'm really doing is looking for someone to give me permission to come to a conclusion i have already reached.

perhaps i ask too late in the decision-making process?

what i'm finding i much prefer - and find very effective - is listening to the almost off-hand comments people make to me in my daily life. the questions they ask, or the jokes they make, or the things they tease me about. like my uncle who read my blog post from last week and told me to take it easy and go grocery shopping already. or the friend who, upon hearing my somewhat crazy idea of starting a print shop asked me if i wasn't worried that it would get too overwhelming. or the therapist who suggested i might want to start asking for advice. or who upon telling me that she couldn't meet at our usual time and we'd have to skip a session suggested i still reserve that hour and do something relaxing like get a massage (and did i? no. but i should have).

these little things - these small bits of whatever you want to call them - i'm learning that they're actually pieces of wisdom. and in my opinion - or my experience - they're best when i didn't go out seeking them.

:: may take-away ::

it's may 31st, month's end, and i'm frustrated tonight. this month was totally great for my business: sales were (very!) high, customers were awesome, feedback was excellent. i got two new printers (bringing my tally to five), hired a virtual assistant, and made a lot of great business connections at NSS. i spent a lot of the month feeling really great about things.

but holy hell i worked my ass off. when i wasn't busy, i was beyond busy. there were days this week i was actually sweating, not from the heat but from my own frenzied work pace. i got no exercise this week. or last. didn't even have time to walk to my therapist's office like i usually do for my appointment. i was late picking up the kids twice this week and worked each night here at home until ten.

we have had an empty fridge since monday (it currently contains: week-old olives, soy milk, a baggie of leftover bacon, bread machine yeast, a smattering of condiments, a mostly-full tub of hummus, a few slices of american cheese, one 6oz. container of vanilla yogurt, V8 juice for the kids (the kind with fruit and veggies, not just the regular kind), diet coke, a few random beers, two kinds of jelly, and a bag of wrinkled sweet peppers. oh, and half a lemon i already zested. two weeks ago). neither brian nor i has had the chance to shop.

i'm torn between enthusiasm for the growth of the business and the sure sense that at this pace, i'm going to keel over.

i've been telling myself - and anyone who asks, actually - that i feel like i just need a few more months of this and then i'll be in the position to hire someone to help. my burden will be lifted.

which is where the fact that it's may 31st comes in.

i ran may's numbers and while the plus column is good, the minus column isn't. it's expected in the early months of a new business, of course. when i started this endeavor i calculated that it would be 9 months before i'd be breaking even, and i'm only 3.5 months in. trouble is, ignoring the usual kinds of "starting a new business" expenses, like buying new printers and such, operating expenses are (understandably) high. the question is, can i up my sales volume enough to allow for an employee when i'm already working at my own capacity? how can i increase my through-put capacity without working any harder, or longer? how can i make more money appear in the plus column without adding stuff to the minus column, or working through the night seven nights a week?

i've had offers of help, and the offers have been awesome. people have been so kind and willing. but i'm sitting here trying to plan for long-term viability, and free help isn't going to get me there. if the business model isn't working, it needs to fail on its own, not succeed with the help of kind free-working souls. otherwise, i can't figure out how best to strengthen it so that it can stand on its own, paying the people who make it work.

so i guess the take-away from may is this: things are good, very good, even, but not as good as my sanity needs them to be. i'm very happy to be able to keep putting money back into the business - to buy equipment and such - but i need to be able to do more than that.

bring it on, june.

:: i am right here ::

this weekend, i admitted some scary things.

except no. i didn't really. i admitted some very reasonable and understandable and normal things, but admitting them was scary.

it was scary because of what i feared it would make people think about me. and it was scary because of how it made me feel about myself.

i admitted that sometimes, especially when i'm having a hard time personally, like when i'm anxious, i feel like i:

shouldn't be a mom
don't know how to be a mom
don't enjoy being a mom
can't take care of my kids
can't even take care of myself
wasn't meant to be a mom

and my rational mind knows that this is stuff ALL MOMS FEEL. but my irrational brain feels like i am the worst possible person in the world, i am selfish, i am going to ruin my children and my marriage, i am broken, i am crazy, i will never feel better.

but of course none of this is true, at least not as long as i keep talking about it and keep rational about it. we moms, we LOVE our children, but we don't always love being with them, and why would we? they need us constantly. and even when they don't have physical needs, they have wants. they need us to feed them and clothe them, but they also need us to talk with them, play with them, nurture them, listen to them say the same things over and over and over. and we do it because we love them.

and it's so scary to say that we don't always like it because we don't want our kids to know. or we don't want our spouses to know. we don't want anyone to think we're unnatural or scary or a risk to ourselves or others.

as i sobbed and sobbed over the phone finally admitting to a surprised listener yesterday that i often don't like the day-to-day caregiving of being a mom, the person on the line asked me if i feel like my children have stolen my life from me. at first i thought, "yes, maybe that's it." but that's not quite how it is. rather, i feel like i have willingly given my life to them the way we all give ourselves to our kids. i just haven't known how to keep myself healthy and okay in the meantime.

i work at least 40 hours a week, but my kids are only in daycare 17 hours a week. often, especially lately, i take my kids to the studio with me, sitting them on the floor with a laptop and a movie and plying them with snacks, paper and pens, cardboard boxes, lunch. they are good when they're there and they look forward to it, but obviously it's hard. from water spills i have to clean up to the jelly footprints all over my floor from someone who stepped in her bagel and then walked all over the studio, it's hard. they need me and i need them. i need to take care of them. i need to look at the pictures they draw while they're sitting on my studio floor. i need to take them to see the dogs my studio mates keep. i like the idea of having them there with me, having them know their mom as a person in the world, having them see my work and be creative with me.

but the reality is that it's hard.

duh, right?

the trouble i have is that for as self-aware as i seem, i can be really clueless when it comes to my own mental health. it wasn't until i started back up with therapy recently to deal with my anxiety and panic attacks and a specific phobia i have that i realized that underneath it all, i'm really depressed. i'm a mess. i work and i take care of the kids and i do almost nothing else, least of all take care of me. i shower every other day, and only because my hair looks too awful if i go longer than that. i don't take walks anymore, even though taking walks is like breathing for me. i don't exercise. i don't hang out with my own friends (because i don't really have any of my own friends, honestly). i never just sit and veg. i don't read anymore. i often work until ten, watch one episode of a show with brian, and then play iPhone games until i fall asleep with the phone in my hand.

and the clueless part isn't just that i didn't realize how depressed and unhealthy i am. the clueless part is that i honestly 100% thought that my work was my break. i thought it was the thing i do for myself to stay centered and peaceful and mentally healthy. i thought it was the solitude i crave to feel whole and sane.

i thought that because four years ago when this all started, right around the time evan turned one and i had a complete breakdown and had to leave home for 11 days and put evan in full time day care for the next 8 months (until we moved home to rochester and i was home with him 100% of the time again), up up creative was my therapy. making things each day and putting them into the world was the only thing that got me through the long days with evan out of the house. i read books, wrote incessantly in a journal, walked around the OSU campus at will, and mostly i made things. quilts. necklaces. all manner of things. i felt normal and connected and grounded and slowly, i felt happy. or happier, maybe. i felt like a human being again.

and in the years that have followed i've grown up up creative (and now aper + pink) into a serious business. a growing, bustling, busy business. and it continues to be such an important part of my life and of my sense of self. i love working. i love building the business. i need it.

but the "make a few things and put them in an etsy shop" beginnings of four years ago are a far cry from what things are like now, and somehow i failed to notice how much more time, energy, and work that business requires now.

and there's a second kid now, of course, too.

and here i am again, totally lost. i have given everything -- happily, often, and almost always willingly -- until i've come up dry and aching from the drought.

and then on top of all of that i've tormented myself about feeling this way. i've tried to ignore it. i've told myself how easy my life is, how much harder it can be. how much harder it is for other people.

my sister in law told me a couple of months ago about a friend of hers who started working full time after her kids were born and stopped after they had both gone off to first grade and were in school all day. she just knew she couldn't mother them all day long. my exact words were, "good for her. you have to know yourself." i one million percent believe that. i think that woman is amazing and that her kids are lucky.

but somehow when i even think of the same thing for us here, i cry. i feel like i have failed.

i wanted to stay home with my kids. i want to. but i can't. i don't know why but i just can't. and that feels so bad. it feels like acid in my veins. i don't know how to take care of them and still take care of me. i thought i was doing it but i was wrong.

but you know what? fuck it, that's what. fuck this idea of mine that there was one way to do it and i've done it wrong. fuck the idea that each decision i make is a permanent decision and that it will have permanent consequences. fuck being scared that my kids won't know how much i love them. you can't be around me and not know how much i love those two little red heads. how much i admire them. how proud i am of them.

it's hard because i know that right now, i need extra time. it's like i've been giving myself a penny each day instead of a dollar and so now i need to give myself a buck fifty each day for awhile until i'm on evener ground. i think i went into this thinking, "maybe i could give myself two pennies a day and eventually i'll make it all up." but that's ridiculous. that's not working.

today i let brian take the kids for a hike without me. i considered going because i didn't want to reinforce my depression and anxiety by avoiding an outing with them. it was a very logical reason to go. i didn't want to avoid them. i didn't want to stay at home and cry or sulk or be anxious.

but instead i let them go and decided that staying home didn't have to be about avoiding them but could be about looking for me.

so here i am.

:: not a cry for help, a cry for change ::

life here at la maison green continues to be stressful. circumstances continue to suck, sometimes just a little, sometimes more than that, and sometimes a hell of a fucking lot. there have been big stresses and littler ones. some that have swept in quick and fierce and some that have simmered, simmered, simmered.

back on my medication for anxiety, i find i am less apt to have panic attacks now than i was a month ago, which is good. but now i'm finding warnings creeping into other parts of my life: i wake with tension headaches, for one; my left knee hurts, which makes my left calf muscle hurt, which in compensating for has made my left hip hurt, and that in turn has left me with a weird pain in my left foot. it's totally and completely ridiculous.

it's affecting brian, too. he gave himself a concussion a few weeks ago (silly, freakish accident involving a cupboard door and a two year old under foot, but still, it seems to be both a cause of the stress at our house and a symptom of it). and now he's the only 30-something i've ever heard diagnosed with shingles (the adult resurgence of chicken pox, which usually doesn't strike until you are in your 50s or 60s, if then).

our bodies are telling us that our life is too much for us right now. they are screaming at us to figure something out.

and yet we're able to look around and find people all around us who are in worse circumstances than we are in. we're surrounded by people struggling against greater foes than we are, facing less sleep, fighting stronger viruses and ailments.

i see these people, and i talk to these friends, and i give myself an "it could be worse" and a "life is hard" and i remind myself that for millennia people have known these things. life is suffering. isn't this literally buddhism's first noble truth?

i say this over and over to myself. life is hard. it's supposed to be hard. who told you it was going to be easy? your life isn't even that hard. it could be worse. after all, my kids are healthy. my marriage is good. no one in the family currently has cancer. we have a house and two cars that run. we have so many blessings we probably can't count them all. so i repeat the chorus to myself: life is supposed to be hard. it could be worse.


the trouble is, my very core just can't accept this. life may be hard, and yes it can certainly be worse than this, but to me, when circumstances get this bad and the stress mounts this high and our bodies yell out to us that things just ain't right, to me this is when you need to step back, reassess, and change something. accommodate the suffering, maybe. find a way to care less about it, perhaps. or maybe just give the suffering more room to breathe -- take away the things that compound the suffering. make life easier.

because i'm very open about my anxiety and depression, i find that people often come to me about it. i get a lot of emails, even some phone calls. this shit is widespread, my friends. many many of us experience it, sometimes acutely, sometimes indefinitely. and as you know i'm the first one to admit (and advocate for the fact) that sometimes, you just need help in the form of medications. but i also completely believe that these times of discomfort, pain, fear, anxiety, sadness -- these are our bodies' ways of saying CHANGE THINGS THE FUCK UP OR ELSE.

i'm in a place now where i'm just not sure what form the change needs to take. it's so much more complicated to change a family's life than to change a single person's. but my kids are still happy and seemingly unaffected yet by the chaos their parents find themselves embroiled in, and i want to keep it that way. i want to get us back out of the fire so that we can get back to not suffering all the time even when circumstances are bad.

:: attacks ::

when i wrote last weekend about how work hasn't been helping me through my anxiety lately, i think i may have suggested somehow that my anxiety is itself work-related.

it is definitely not.

it's the result of a series of very personal crises that all occurred in the span of approximately a week.

i never used to have these sometimes weeks-long debilitating anxiety attacks. before i had kids i would get the occasional short-lived irrational panic surge that might course through my veins for maybe 15 minutes tops.

now i get anxiety that inhabits me and lives inside here for weeks. this is my third bout with this in less than four years, and the fact that it keeps happening both scares me and pisses me off.

the frustrating thing about it is that it really does come in these little explosions, all at once and with no warning. an event will trigger the initial anxiety attack and suddenly my entire body will be flooded with stress that feels like poison. slowly over days i lose the ability to eat, and then to sleep. i can't be around my kids. i become unable to function. twice now i've even had to go on sedatives to help me get through the toughest part.

but when the attack finally wanes, i'm fine. fine-fine-fine. fine for a while.

some women hate their thighs, or their hips, or their stomachs. some hate the backs of their arms or their profiles in a photograph.

this anxiety is the thing i hate about myself. i hate that it's in me. i hate that i can't control it. i hate that it makes things so difficult for my husband and my kids and all the relatives and babysitters who help us out. i hate that i have to be medicated for it. i hate that it's probably hereditary. i hate that it makes me feel weak. that it makes me avoid stress. i hate that it makes me uncomfortable with my family. i hate that when i'm in the middle of it i feel like i will never-never-ever get out of it. i hate that even if it's not caused by my children, they're a part of it. i hate that it makes me avoid them.

what if this continues to happen to me three times every four years? what if it starts to happen more often? what if one time the anxiety does settle in and never leaves?

these are the things my frenzied brain wonders, of course. my calmer self knows that the previous bouts have ended and so will this one. it knows that each time this has happened i've learned something about my anxiety from it.

but still: it's scary.

:: not work ::

i have had a truly rotten, awful week. the kind of awful that you can compare to other kinds of awful and it still seems bad. the kind of awful you can't ignore. the kind that feels like it's causing instantaneous ulcers.

it has me alternately weeping on my husband's shoulder, bawling in the car, and staring into the middle distance dazedly.

i'm having trouble making myself eat, which is a weird thing that happens to me when too much of this kind of fight-or-flight stress courses through me.

and usually, my work is something that helps me get through those times. like knitting and watching crime shows, working is usually something that kind of backburner's the anxiety so that i can feel normal for a bit.

this week, though, work's not working. it's not helping. i don't want to do it.

i want to curl up in a snuggle with my little boy. i want to read harry potter (it's my first time through - we've just started the first book). i want to watch felicity on netflix. i want to be quiet. i want to listen to music. i want to sit next to my husband without talking. in fact i want him around more or less constantly.

i want to shut my computer and leave it shut, unless maybe i need to open it to turn on the next episode of felicity. i get to the studio and don't want to be here.

and i'm not sure what to think about this. i'm not sure what it means, if anything, that all i want to do right now is not work.

obviously it's not a choice to put work aside. i've got orders to fill, clients waiting on me, emails piling up higher than a young boy's falsetto. i have orders to print (that's what brought me in to the studio today, when what i really wanted to do was curl up with my head on my hubby's lap on my in-laws' couch and watch the DIY channel, hearing my kids playing nearby but without them disturbing me).

i've built this thing, this business, to need me and my frequent attention, but i haven't yet figured out how to negotiate the times when i don't want its incessant calls to action.

have you?

:: confluence ::

oh, i'm brooding tonight, wondering why on earth i insist on doing things in the most difficult way possible.

it's hard to exactly explain, though it's easy to point to what put me here. today brought a series of small events, the confluence of which have given me much to think about. the five events were:

1. getting my snapfish and minted 1099s
2. finishing the irritating job of calculating the dollar-value of my inventory for 2011 year-end (which will be used to calculate COGS (cost of goods sold) on my income taxes)
3. getting an email reminding me that my sales tax will be due soon
4. one of my printers dying
5. being notified by my new landlord, who also rungs a digital print shop, though with a different customer base but also a lot more years' experience, is about to sublet even more of his own space as a cost-cutting measure. he's downsizing his employee base and renting out probably half of his space. he's got dozens of printers, many of which sit unused. 

i'll do my best to explain.

so.

the work i do for minted and snapfish, which my 1099s attest is rewarded financially, requires nothing but couple thousand fonts, a computer, and some design software. it does not require me to file sales tax, do inventory, calculate COGS, buy, repair, and replace printers, or stock paper and envelopes. it doesn't even require me to go out and find customers, or to keep customers happy.

there's always the chance that one of those (major) companies will go bust, or that my work will no longer appeal to their customers, etc. but damn! DAMN! i spend less than 10% of my time on this work. i should just multiple that by ten and i'd be ALL SET. so little overhead. so little payout. why am i not doing that???

the answer, i guess, is that there's something that happens to me when i see other people running successful creative businesses, abuzz with activity, bursting with energy, busy with employees. i want that. i want to make that happen and to stand in the middle of it.

i got an email from the CEO of minted this past december in which she recounted the busy holiday seasons of minted's first years in business -- the year that they realized they were about to hit through-put capacity and had to immediately pull any advertising they could possibly still pull, for one. the year they had to call in their husbands, friends, and family members in order to get everything out the doors.

it sounded like completely wonderful chaos. and i do NOT like chaos.

but its hard to see lots of businesses around me in S-O-S. kodak, for one. my landlord, who maybe isn't in S-O-S exactly but who is definitely in pare-down mode. 

now more than at any other time, even more now than when i shelled out all those big bucks to exhibit at nss let year, i'm standing at the edge of a chasm and i'm about to jump, and while i feel confident that i'll make it to the other side of this particular span, i've got to admit that i can't see what's lurking on the other side.

and with things like COGS and sales tax and dead printers that are more expensive to repair than to replace, i guess it's only natural to take a moment before jumping. and with 1099s showing me the alluring options on this side of the chasm, i suppose i'd be crazy not to be muddled tonight. brooding.

it would be wisest of me to stand here on this side. not only wisest, but possibly healthiest (from a wellness standpoint) and also best (from a mom standpoint). these are things i really believe, not just things i'm supposed to say. i really truly believe that if i could just find a way to stay happy here on this side, i'd be better off. healthier. happier. 

but i can't shake the allure of spanning the chasm. 

i can't stop wanting to be one of the few who takes the leap.

so i guess we all know i'll probably jump.

:: the things i wish i could outsource ::

there was a time, right after evan was born and lasting, i dunno, a year or more, that i wrote here every day. it went like this: get up, feed the baby, eventually eat something and get dressed and brush my teeth, do the day, whatever the day was to be that day, do dinner for the baby, eat with brian, kid bed, BLOG. and then after blog, or sometimes before, or during, FLICKR.

it was just part of the day.

now i feel like my days are so overrun with everything else the blog is reserved for whenever-i-can-find-the-damned-time. (and flickr? i'm not sure i've used it once since i uploaded the pictures from NSS last may).

and no, whenever-i-can-find-the-damned-time does not include now.

but i've been working so hard on bringing you (and the world!) aper + pink that i forgot to tell you along the way what it's like bringing a new business into the world when it's, like, a planned-in-advance business.

up up creative happened and grew and became. it was an unplanned but very much wanted pregnancy and it has grown to be a very pleasant child.

aper + pink was 100% planned, and while the execution (gestation?) has been purposefully condensed into a short, short period of time, it has at times felt like this overwhelming beast. not the business idea, but everything that goes into making a business idea happen at a certain time and on purpose.

there has been ordering, or i suppose i would be telling a truer truth if i were to say there has been 90% order planning (and unplanning, and replanning, and second-guessing, and third-guessing, and then back to the second guess, no maybe the first) and 10% actual ordering.

there has been physical organization and orientation.

there has been a lot of really awesome pre-launch marketing -- getting out there and talking to the people who i want to be my customers -- which has also served as pre-launch survey-taking and focus group polling.

but holy hell there's so much thinking that goes into this, and i don't mean the angsty "what on earth am i doing with my business" kind of thinking that i've gone through at regular intervals with up up creative. this thinking is more like, "okay. i have a plan. in my mind it is as clear as day. how do i get it across to other people in a way that makes it as crystal clear and fantastic?"

i'm a decent communicator. a decent teacher. i can usually take a large pile of information and carefully, skillfully, condense it into its finest, most digestible self. but taking the fine, digestible idea and building all the necessary scaffolding to hold it up to the sun? 

i've tried three separate times now, or i guess four, to outsource the design and development of the website for aper + pink. i've also developed three almost-complete e-commerce websites. and each time i've changed course, or made the plea to others for help with the coding work, or the design, i've not seen that the real issue is this: i'm having trouble wrapping my head around all the content, and instead of sitting down with that i've been trying to throw Function and Pretty at it. 

oh that i could pay someone to climb inside my head and grab all the bits and bobbles related to aper + pink and then put them through some kind of strainer and turn them into the actual stuff of the business. 

which is to say: i'm going to have to take the next few days to climb inside my head and gather bits and bobbles and spend the time it will take to actually mold them into the business. i was really hoping i could avoid that part by hiring out the website work.

i guess i may do it all myself after all, since the very hardest part is on me.

damn damn damn.

:: 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.

:: the first business trimester ::

it's four now, and i'm just sitting down to work, which on a sunday is pretty much unheard of. usually i toil my sundays away since i have no childcare on monday and only part of a day on tuesday. sundays are important days, work wise.

instead of working i spent 20 minutes on the elliptical and 5 hours sweeping and mopping my house from top to bottom. (note to self: if you are going to spend five hours sweeping and mopping, 20 minutes on the elliptical is kinda irrelevant.)

my work break has much less to do with needing to clean -- let's face it, i clean so seldom that there's basically always a need to do it -- and much more to do with needing to do some business thinking.

it's the same reason i've been absent here on the blog these last 19 days.

i'm thinking. planning. assessing. polling. synthesizing. crunching. fantasizing. gut-checking.

business is slow this month -- because i made it that way. i've taken off random saturdays to sit and stare at my husband, or my in-laws, spent sundays sliding furniture around in order to uncover bunny-sized dust bunnies. i've gone evenings (not many, mind you, maybe even just one) completely computer-free. i've taken long lunch breaks and walks around the block.

sales are way down, of course, but thanks to work i did all year for minted and snapfish, i'm reaping the rewards of the holiday season without much effort at all on my part.

i have my reasons for creating this slow, slow november.

i am at a point in the growth of my business and my family life where i need to figure out what the next few years are going to look like.

brian would like to have a bit more of me on the weekends and has suggested a few times that it might be time to think about a more full-time daycare situation for the kids. and i've also had a business epiphany that pushes the issue further. 

i have a really excellent business plan and i've crunched the numbers and done some market research and floated the idea by friends and colleagues and it's excitingly possible. doable. but to do it right, and it's the kind of thing that really has to be done right, it will require three things:

1. a significant investment - of somewhere around $10-16K - that it will take between 9 and 12 months to recuperate, which I realize isn't bad at all from a business investment standpoint.
2. a dedicated space (i.e. commercial or industrial studio space), which adds to the investment tally and extends the time until break-even.
3. an employee. which, yeah, adds to the investment tally and, right again, extends the time until break-even quite a bit more. this part of the equation also adds the potential for a lot more stress.

i'm not totally good with stress. my tissues seem to be stress sponges, sucking up all the cortisol and adrenaline and other yuckiness and turning them into raw, pulsating panic that strikes when least expected, sometimes even waking me from a dead sleep. 

i am surprisingly okay with issue number one, the investment, but the second two are too big for me to take lightly. they're major. crazy major. to make those two things (a studio, an employee) work with my life, i'd definitely have to up the week-day daycare and in order to compensate, work less on the weekends. i'd be signing myself up for a full-time day job working for myself and being someone's boss.

let me tell you, it doesn't feel great knowing that i have this viable business idea that has the potential to really be wildly successful and that all i need to do to make it happen is commit to it fullheartedly and step up and take the reins and yet i'm sitting here writing a long thinky blog post about it.

it also doesn't feel great knowing that my hesitation is a very female hesitation. something tells me that a man in my position would already have been down to the SBA talking about loans, would have scoped out studio space, would have talked to the woman at daycare about extending the kids' hours, and would be spreading the word about the impending new hire. that i'm not doing those things makes me feel a bit wimpy.

brian is already telling people - you know, family members and such - about my new business plan, which makes me cringe a little bit. or not cringe. wince. like it hurts to talk about it. and hurt i guess it does, because i know he's right that i could easily be racing forward into the wild blue future. 

but there are things i just can't ignore. i can't ignore the fact that i'm a total introvert who isn't exactly jumping up and down at the thought of working day-in and day-out with the same human being, having to communicate each day with that person. having to advise, guide, teach, correct, and listen to carefully enough to make the business - and the working relationship - work.

and i can't ignore the fact that emily is only two and i still want a little bit more time with her. she's at that age where we are starting to be buddies, and i really do not like the idea that i got to share the early buddy years with evan but might choose not to spend them with emily. it's a decidedly motherly thing to worry about, that i won't know my daughter as well as i will know my son, but it's there and its un-ignorable.

so here i sit, feeling so much like a mother in her first trimester who is nervous and excited and bewildered, who doesn't want to tell anyone about the baby yet - just in case. here i sit with a kick-ass plan for a really kick-ass business, one that would be both a new direction for me and a really logical extension of everything i've been doing since november 2, 2008 when all of this started.

if i don't move forward with the plan, i know i'll mourn the loss. i don't know that i can go as far as to compare it to a miscarriage or an abortion, since i've never experienced those, but there will definitely be pain and mourning and the sense that something amazing didn't happen. but while that sounds to some like a reason in and of itself to move forward -- take the plunge in order to avoid the mourning, the pain, the loss, the regret -- to me it's not so clear. avoiding that sense of loss isn't enough to make me ignore the fact that i'm not sure i want the life that bringing this new business to fruition would bestow upon me. the life for me, and for my family.

it's all so damned complicated.

there are some things that i am pretty sure of. 

1. i like working. i wouldn't trade in my job for staying home full time in a million years. i LOVE my kids and i LOVE that we have mondays all to ourselves to just do kid-and-mom-type things. out and about in the old things and here at home things. but i do actually hope to even out my life a bit more over the next few years so that i can do more of my work during "normal" work hours and less at night and on weekends.
2. i like that my job is flexible.
3. if anything, over the years i've wished it would be even a little bit easier for me to take breaks, deal with illnesses, etc.

beyond those things, i think i need to do some more house-cleaning, by which i mean soul-searching. i hope you'll indulge my silence about the specifics of the business while i do so.

and um, yeah, please do stop by my shop, as well as minted and/or snapfish, if you're so inclined this month. you'll be contributing directly to my ability to take the time to figure shit out.

please and thank you good night.

:: on the question of what my ART is ::

even though i suggested yesterday that there are two halves to the nss story, there are more. more factors that go into deciding how i want to move up up creative forward in 2012 and beyond.

one of the factors is a strange one, and it's one that i'm going to have to deal with before i deal with any of the others.

i said all that stuff i said yesterday about my ideal customers, but there's a way in which perhaps those folks i so badly want to be my customers aren't completely ideal after all. there are things i care quite deeply about that the customers i profiled yesterday don't care as much about. or don't care about at all. or don't value or prioritize financially even if they do possibly care.

and part of the weirdness in the equation is that these are not things i used to care about. they are not things i cared about even a few years ago. and they're things that i even feel a little bit hypocritical caring about.

i really really care about the quality of the final product. i know i "only" print on a pro photo printer, something that, yes, any schmoe with enough money, a USB cable, and the ability to hit cmd-P can do. but i've spent years learning all about the inks and papers that combine to create the very best, most vibrant output. i've cultivated business relationships and have so grown my print volume that i can now order my paper at significant discounts. and i've learned tricks. 

at nss last may i was situated near a company that prints on the same paper i print on, using a comparable (and in fact more expensive and slightly more advanced model) printer and i noticed that their output, while vibrant and dense, was pixelated - and even quite rough in places - around the edges of elements. and immediately i knew exactly why, and it's such an easy thing to correct, but it took me three years to figure out.

after my september experiment, when i was staring down the barrel of a significant number of orders and two printers to print them on, i realized i would never be able to keep up that volume, even though my goal for future volume is actually significantly higher than what came in throughout september. 

and so despite all i've said about in-sourcing and wanting to control the output and the quality and wanting to have my hands on things, i started looking into outsourcing at least some of my printing.

i did crazy amounts of research and found the top five or so recommendations for the kind of work i'm looking to have done and i started requesting samples. i got paper sample books, printed sample books, and i also ordered small opening orders with three shops that had the best paper options for me using my own designs, just so i could compare them with my own output here in the studio.

the first order to arrive came in wrong. the back was printed in the wrong orientation and so arrived misaligned, turned 90 degrees, and cut off on one side. also, the color intensity was weak and there was that pesky rough-edge pixel problem. i requested that the problem be corrected and a week later i got the corrected order. a week! for ten prints that were supposedly expedited. the back was correct this time, but the print quality was the same.

the next order to arrive was actually so ugly i actually gasped when i saw it. it arrived extremely promptly, i'll give them that, but ohmygod i was shocked at what i received. the paper, supposedly a premium matte-finish paper, was shiny. not glossy, mind you. not luster. just kind of shiny. like sort of matte-shiny. it's hard to explain but it's awful. and the trimming isn't square or consistent, and on 5 of the 25 prints, part of the crop marks appear on the top corner. for real. and the whole stack is significantly curled. and oh. the pixelly problem again.

if only i could get my hands on those printers myself, i'm positive i could produce significantly better output. and the trimming? come on.

and the thing is, this quality is acceptable to a lot of people. i got lots of recommendations from graphic designers and photographers i know and trust. these places are the best in the biz.

i did find one place that prints with the same ink and papers i use here in-house: giclee printing on heavy duty fine-art 100% cotton paper. the cost there is $9 for a 5x7 print if you order a minimum of 75, which in order for me to make profitable would have to marked up to about $21 per invitation, envelopes excluded. which makes me laugh and laugh and laugh. perhaps i'm underpricing on these because my market won't support the price i probably should be charging, but certainly they're charging a premium for a level of output that just isn't expected by most.

including my supposedly ideal customers, who i've asked about their printing expectations. what they've told me is that while they are in awe at the quality of my prints, it's just not something they're willing to pay for. it's not a priority for them. they have, in fact, often asked for printable versions that they can have printed at places i'd be appalled to use because the quality is so shoddy. 

and the thing is? until i started doing all of this and learning everything i can about printing in-house, it wasn't a priority for me, either. 

and yeah. i know, i'm not my own ideal customer. i came to this realization awhile ago and i'm pretty good about remembering it. but at the same time, there's something that still nags at me - something that makes me question whether anyone who doesn't have their hands on the goods each day, who isn't a printer themselves, prioritizes the kind of quality i've come to think of as a benchmark.

or, more to the point, are the people who prioritize paper and quality output and the time and expertise it takes to make paper magic happen, are they really at all interested in digital printing? are the people who have the money to spend on this kind of quality, who care deeply about it like i do, are they all really much more interested in letterpress and even screenprinted work?

and further: do i want to make it my job to educate people about the high quality stuff they can get without a letterpress printer? do i want to devote time and energy to creating my own market?

and finally: do i see myself as an artist? a printmaker? or a graphic designer? is the art i create the design (and the design only) or is it the final product?

if it's the final product, which is the model i've been operating under for awhile now without really acknowledging it, then how do i begin to create a desire for the kind of art i'm putting out there? how do i create my own market?

there are, of course, so many other things to consider, like what i can realistically accomplish within the confines of my own set of circumstances. like, from my attic studio, all 150 square feet of it, and my 17 hours a week of daycare plus all my nights and weekends. i need to be making the kind of salary that i could make if i worked a full-time job. that's what my family needs. if that's the case, do i really have the right to focus so much on the quality of the end product when the demand is not (yet, anyway) enough to sustain us? is it responsible of me to set out courting a market i don't yet know how to find or cultivate when there's a market of customers i relate to, know how to reach and inspire, and can find sustainable ways to serve?

or if i'm going to go whole-hog in the direction of artist-slash-printmaker, should i really be setting up shop with a letterpress and trying to really court the customers who are most interested in the kind of work i do? should i start providing both options - the giclee and the letterpress?

but from where? my garage, where an unused 1979 MG takes up space beside nine bikes and a human-powered lawn mower and about sixteen thousand other things? the garage i won't allow my kids in? the one that's unheated, uninsulated, offering no protection for any paper or ink, and in no way shape or form appropriate for the task?

these, my friends, these are the questions that keep me up nights i'm afraid. they're the questions that make decision-making so hard.

:: the other half of the nss story ::

my previous post on nss presented the gut/emotional side of things, because that's kind of what i like to do on this blog. this blog, since it's my personal blog, is the perfect venue for me to talk about - and think through - how intuition, gut reactions, and emotional responses feed into everyday business decisions.

but to be fair - to me and to my business - there is another key factor i'm considering as i ponder nss 2012. a key non-emotional, business-facts kind of factor. 

my ideal customers.

as i've worked through this year with my business, particularly in the months since nss, i've been increasingly aware of the need to get crystal clear on just who i want to be selling to. who i'm focused on attracting, serving, and satisfying.

when you're an artsy-designy type, and when you start out part time and kind of just want to see how and where things go, you don't always spend a lot of time thinking about this part of things. but for me at least, the key to focusing my efforts in a way that will allow me to make this business more sustainable, more profitable, and even more enjoyable is figuring out who i want to work with. who i want to sell to. 

the september experiment was a huge part of this. as i explained in my follow-up post on a practical wedding, i think a big part of the experiment was about nailing down who my ideal customer is and how i can best communicate to her.

there, i wrote this:

"There's sort of a business adage (adage? rule of thumb? bit of advice? moral? truism?) that says you should price for the customer you want. If you want a high-end customer, you need a high-end price. If you want a bargain shopper, you need a bargain price. 

I actually just gave this advice to two separate individuals in the last 48 hours.
At some point early on in this experiment, it occurred to me that at least in part, my goal for this experiment was to do this the other way around: find the customer I wanted and then let that customer set the price. And who was that customer? She was the kind of person who believes in the power of her voice and her dollar; the sort of person who would think carefully before naming a price. She was thoughtful, maybe a little bit rebellious. 

I agonized over my so-called pitch. I worked so hard on the video, on the FAQs. I was selective in which blogs I contacted. I wanted to make this an experiment about ideas more than it was an experiment about how many customers I could bring through the door. I wanted to focus on finding the right name-your-price customers. 

After all, it's just me here. Me and an ex-intern (back to school in September) and a very pregnant sister and a husband neck-deep in prosecuting bad guys. And two young kids in just-part-time daycare. So it's not like I wanted an onslaught. But I did want participation. I told Meg that my biggest fear was that no one would participate."

and the thing is, attending nss really in no way, shape, or form fits into a marketing strategy that speaks to the customer i'm trying to engage. i know it's a big part of becoming a serious and enduring stationery brand, which is why i was so excited to go this year, why i'm glad i went this year, and why i'm still slightly on the fence about attending next year. 

but as i hone my business objectives and focus my efforts, it's pretty clear to me that the six grand i spent on attending this past year could be put to much better use if what i want to do is attract the kinds of customers i want to attract. customers who want to do things their way. young people who seek their inspiration and information online and who haven't stepped foot in a boutique since their moms dragged them there to buy presents for their great aunts. people who want input in the process. people who want to be reassured that their way is the right way, even if its not the traditional way.

so yeah. there's the emotional part. there's the frustration i feel, and the resentment. there's my inclination towards being contrary and stubbornly striking out in my own direction. but there are also solid, logical, intentional reasons that attending nss may not be the best choice for up up creative in 2012, much as attending again would be fun.

i just had to put that out there because i felt like my other post only covered half the story.

:: nss recap, the five months later edition ::

lately i've been making - and talking about making - some small and less-small changes to how this little business of mine works. i'm cutting out the greeting cards, for one thing, because i need more room.

more room in my studio. more room in my schedule. more room in my brain. more room to make other things happen for up up creative.

so this morning, in response to some chit chat about some of the still-to-come changes, brian asked me if we're doing NSS again in may (of 2012). 

i said i let my spot go for now (they wanted my commitment long ago already and i wasn't ready to give it - or my money) and i need to think about it, but that i'd been thinking no.

the thing is, i feel really resentful about attending NSS this year. despite the good feelings i had at the time and all the stuff i said about already thinking about next year's booth and all, when all is said and done i look back at that experience and i'm mad. (for more reactions to the show, see this thread of posts here on the blog.)

right before my crazy name-your-price experiment was first conceived, i sprawled out on my belly on my studio floor (i wouldn't advise this, friends. i'm really not sure when this carpet was installed but i'm positive it was too long ago for anything good to come of sitting on it, let alone lying face-down on it) and i made a little mind map to try to explain to myself why i feel the way i do about NSS.

it's all in cursive and therefore difficult to read in a photo, so i've recreated it for you and made it nice and big. if you click on this small photo (below) you should be able to read the whole big thing (you may have to click on the link and then click on "see original" and THEN once the image opens click it once more to make it full size).

basically i feel conflicted but mostly i feel mad and frustrated. my gut keeps saying NO NO NO even though there are parts of me that feel like it deserves another chance.

brian thinks we should do it. do it differently, but do it. i'm still undecided.

at the end of the day (what a weird saying that is for an event that lasted more or less one week) the event cost me $5775 including hotel and travel (we were lucky that we lived close enough to bring everything ourselves and we also used points to cover about half of our hotel expense, and we totally scrimped and saved as much as we could on things (i.e. fabric walls) but excluding food (no small total in NYC, yo). the week of the show i wrote $1176 in orders, or about 20% of the cost of exhibiting, which is decent for the week of the show for a first timer, or at least i'm told it is.

but i haven't written a single wholesale order since then. 

i've tried, i suppose. i sent follow-ups to over a hundred individuals and shops that expressed interest at the show. i've offered incentives and such. i've been getting good industry press (the editor at stationery trends sends me individual requests for specific images she'd like to include in each issue, for example, and there have been others - a few magazines and such). and oh! i had interest in my calendars from kate's paperie.

but the stars haven't aligned and my heart hasn't been in it. i don't like that i get sales leads emailed to me weekly as a result of my appearances in stationery trends. i don't like adding those names and contact info to my now extensive list of retailers. i don't want to call them or send them anything. i'm a designer, not a sales rep. i like doing certain kinds of marketing directly to the people who will end up with my things in their homes, but i don't like all this sales work trying to convince other people to want to do additional sales work on my behalf. it doesn't feel right. 

so i've got time, still, to decide. i'm sure that in january there will still be spots available for the may 2012 show, just as there were last year when i signed up. but it's hard for me to figure out what could happen to change how i feel about the 2011 experience enough to make me want to give 2012 a go.

:: leveling charges ::

holy crap, people. it's the last day of september.

and what a september it has been.

something tells me there will be a lot of reflection happening over the next few weeks (some here, some elsewhere around the interwebs), but today instead of reflection i thought i'd do a little responding instead.

responding to recent charges against me.

the two complaints-slash-charges-against-me that have been voiced most vociferously during this experiment have been these:

(1) this was not well thought out and

(2) my experiment devalues the work of OTHER stationers, takes customers from them, and hurts the industry

as to the first charge i say yup. you're totally right. it was designed (and by designed i suppose i mean intended) to let things happen naturally so i could see what would happen. i didn't want to direct it too much. i just wanted to put it out there and see what came of it. i mean, i took great pains to ensure that i communicated the spirit of the experiment and how i hoped people would respond, but i tried otherwise to just let it be. this is why it was only for a month, people! it was a one-month experiment that i hoped would give me enough to go on to try to figure out a realistic and sustainable way to integrate the spirit of the name-your-price concept into a real, living, breathing, tangible-goods business.

the second charge is harder to respond to. at first, i was really upset by this charge. i'm the one who - back when etsy still had something called "alchemy" where people could request that sellers bid on custom work and could list their desired price for said work - used to bid high and explain why so that the buyers would understand how much really goes into completing custom work. 

i'm the one who includes labor (but not design work - that i bill or contract for separately as appropriate) and paypal transaction fees in her break-even price and then adds in overhead and profit to calculate her wholesale prices (which are then doubled to calculate retail price). 

i'm the one who disliked doing branding work so much she doubled her hourly rate and then doubled it again and found herself loving it. 

i believe in profit. 

i go crazy when i see someone who is not charging enough to even cover her costs. (but, i reason, she'll learn. or she'll go out of business.)

but the more i think about this charge (and really, there are a few things being said here that i've kind of rolled into one), the more upset i get. first of all, please. let's not give me too much credit here, folks. i've had this awesome amazing turnout but really, it's still only 24* people. 24 people, 18 of whom told me that if they were going to DIY their invitations or buy them at target, costco, michaels, or other-big-box-place. two people sent me the designs they had already started working on themselves. one customer was going to get hers at minted. the others didn't say. so let's not get carried away thinking that i poached all of these customers from my artisan and indie friends and competitors because i really did not. the people this experiment appealed to were people who wanted to support an indie business and still work within their DIY budget. they weren't the people who were about to go put down $600 with one of my competitors until they saw a post somewhere about my experiment and realized they could get the same thing cheaper with me.

and as far as the industry? well honestly i'm not totally sure i care about whether or not i'm supposedly hurting the stationery industry. this little business of mine is about two things at its core: providing me a creative outlet (and my customers a creative high) and providing my family with enough money to pay $200K in student loans plus a mortgage and all those little things it takes to, you know, live? 

i mean really, who starts a paper goods biz saying, "wow, you know, i really want to support the greeting card industry and ensure that it maintains its integrity and fortitude." what wedding vendor is in business to keep the wedding industry strong and healthy. do those industries help support us and keep us alive as vendors? sure. but is it why we're doing what we're doing? come on. 

if my experiment makes my business stronger and my business is a paper goods or a wedding business, then my experiment strengthens those industries in its own way. and whatever industry assumptions it calls into question, well, good on it. would i love to think that my little self might help other little selves start to think outside the "here is how you run a stationery business" curriculum? yes I would. but do i think i'm going to bring down the industry or topple my competitors? i'm not that crazy.

i'd really love to go into a little comparison of my experiment versus the completely-accepted-industry-standard wholesale model, and in fact i plan on delving into that discussion in the coming weeks once i have a little time to put some data from the experiment together and sit it there alongside some data from my experience with wholesale so far. but from where i sit i'm seeing a lot of similarities: both depend on the idea that volume makes up for lower profit margin; both require significant "unbillable" work on the part of the business owner. the difference is in the experience (and cost) for the customer, it seems, and in the relationships formed or not formed between creator and user.

but that's a discussion for another day, i'm afraid.

stay tuned.

* 24 is a rough number. i have had 52 inquiries, i think, and 24 actual purchases (although i can't remember if i am counting two clients twice (each of whom made two orders)). this only includes name-your-price wedding customers, obviously, not other customers or clients brought on this month.

:: guest post time ::

i realize there are people who don't really want to hear other people lament about things they brought on themselves. i might even be one of those people.

but when people are introspective and reflective, even if what they're introspective and reflective about is a situation they brought on themselves, even asked for, i'm willing to listen.

if you'd like to listen, i wrote a guest post for the heartmade blog about this whole experiment thing. i've got a few more guest posts and interviews coming in the next few weeks, too, which i'll apprise you of as they come.

'kay? 'kay.

(p.s. the post on heartmade is a pretty good one, i think, and worth the read, i think.)