In my quest to explore ways I can help earn a living, I explored Etsy. I have a friend who does well selling her homemade things on Etsy, so it’s something I needed to look into. What could I sell? Drawings. I explored drawings. There’s a lot of neat artwork on Etsy, and the prices are really all over the board. Some people are practically giving away original art, and some people are charging hundreds of dollars. I could do artwork made to order. You know, someone gives me their wedding photo and I make a drawing of it with some design-y stuff in the background. Or I could experiment with watercolor. I could appeal to the cat crowd. I think my family is officially cat-crazy enough to appeal to just about any cat person. (Don’t tell anyone, but we sometimes have 10 cats in the house, all at the same time. They stand at the window and give us guilty looks. Or pleading looks. Or they shiver and look pitiful. Almost any look is good enough to entice one of us to take pity and open the door. Zoom! They’re all in. I generally have to defend my cereal bowl at breakfast. I’m not really complaining. I love them.)
So anyway, I went about doodling this afternoon, trying to come up with something that looked salable. Eh. I don’t know. My heart’s not into the made-to-order stuff. And I think my heart should be in it. If I’m going to draw, it ought to be for the sake of the art, not for the sake of the money. Otherwise, I’m probably going to make mediocre drawings.
Why don’t I apply that standard to my writing? I mean, I don’t love writing blog articles for healthcare staffing companies, but I just wrote one. I write for money. I think there’s something more practical about words than art. Words can certainly be artful, and if I’m going to write poetry, I’m going to write for the love of it, not for money. But if I’m going to write about leadership trends, then I do want to get paid. Does that make sense?
Somewhere along the line today, I remembered that I’m trying not to be ashamed of who I am. I am an artist and a writer. I am a home educator. I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a Christian. Right at the moment, I am not earning much money. Does that make me feel ashamed? Not really. But I think it makes my husband ashamed. Or mad. But me… no. Look at all the things I am. Those are important things. And I do them. I have purpose.
It gets confusing, though, when my husband doesn’t see things the same way I do.