One thing I am learning about myself is that when I’m clawing my way out of The Sads, all that pent up frustration releases itself in the form of creative energy. I get this fervent (and often slightly obsessed) urge to transform something. To paint a room, rearrange furniture, put words on a blank screen (published or not), or anything of the sort allows me to flush out the grey and replace it with something fresh and clean.
The end of March had an attitude and left behind grime and cobwebs on its way out. Seeing as how we repainted all the common areas and rearranged furniture in February, I started dicking around in Photoshop when the cluttered debris of gloom began reorganizing itself into creativity. One work quickly led to another, and by the time I’d finished the second, I got the harebrained idea to open an Etsy shop and offer my prints for purchase. I have a folder full of other random all-up-in-my-emotions-creative-outbursts just sitting there, so “Why not?” I thought to myself.
It was a question not asked rhetorically, as the query often is. As I am wont to do, I began over-thinking all the reasons why I shouldn’t:
Because there are a thousand other people selling prints on Etsy.
Because having a rope doesn’t make you a cowgirl, just as knowing a fraction of Photoshop doesn’t make you a “graphic artist/designer.”
Because nobody is going to buy your stuff and you’re going to waste money when you could have bought important stuff. Like ice cream.
I have a bad habit of engaging in what I call “stinkin’ thinkin'”; I’ll be anyone else’s biggest cheerleader, but will often naysay myself right out of whatever brilliant idea I had. As soon as I realized I was headed down that path again, my word for the year swam into mind: MOVE.
‘Nuff said. I moved stinkin’ thinkin’ right out of the way and moved onto putting my idea into action. I ain’t got time for inspiration destruction. Not this time.
For the past couple of weeks, I have been busy planning, creating, and doing. I hope to launch by early July at the latest.
I have moments when I feel those non-gangsta, you-are-soooo0-gonna-suck-at-this feeling start to scratch at my back, but then I think back to that first creation that got me started on all of this in the first place:
That’s damned right.