Sorry for my silence of the last two days. To be honest, I don’t have time to post now, but I didn’t want you to think that I had actually died. Death seemed like a pretty attractive option at some points this week, I’ve got to admit. My sewing machine and my serger both went out on me in a 24 hour period. There were tears. Many tears. If there’s anything I hate, it’s failing, and this week has smelled very strongly of failure.
Rather than give you the details of the last couple of miserable days, I thought I’d just ruminate for a few minutes on what is at stake here. Because of the strict requirements for the booth, I have a lot of money (and at least 10 sheets) tied up in this weekend’s event, not even counting materials costs or the hotel room for two nights. I will have to sell a LOT of merchandise to even make a dent in what I’ve already spent.
So there’s that financial pressure. I went into this hoping that I could contribute to the family income, and I’m going to feel awful if instead I dug us deeper in the hole.
But there’s an even deeper and scarier kind of jeopardy here. What if no one wants our stuff? What if no one buys anything? What if people ignore our booth because it looks like it was made by someone who was both drunk and blind, and who then left it in a swamp for a decade or two? What if people do come into our booth, look around, sigh in disgust, and leave?
For me and for Lucy, this won’t feel like, “Oh, they have no need for a muff in this climate.” It will feel like, “They saw the fruit of my labors and the product of my creativity and they rejected it, and therefore they’re rejecting me.” Rejection is hard to take, even if you know on some level that it’s all in your head. So we’re really hoping and praying that we sell enough stuff to feel encouraged as artists, if not as businesswomen!
And, if you’re in the area, we’d absolutely LOVE it if you would come to the faire and visit us! Saturday and Sunday, in Texarkana, from 10:00 a.m. till 7:00 p.m.