I’m still sort of thinking out loud (virtually thinking?) about why I seem to be spinning my wheels professionally. Actually, that probably isn’t fair – my work has improved, and continues to do so. It’s the business end of things which seems to be caught in a road rut. It all comes down to money.
A good friend of mine, whom I’ll call Mr. Business Guy, had some thoughts on the matter. (As an aside, how odd it is to see one’s college buddies grow up! I used to have bottle-rocket wars with this guy; now he’s somebody’s CEO.) He pointed out that I always have exactly as much money as I need. There’s some fluctuation, of course, but at the end of every month, I’m never seriously behind on anything, nor is ever there any significant amount to carry over into the next month or save (ha!). Mr. Business Guy observed that it is unlikely to be a coincidence that the income and expenses are always exactly the same. Whether I am aware of doing so or not, I am choosing how much money to make; which suggests that I could choose some other number… say, more.
This makes a kind of sense. Somewhat analogously, I sell all the pots I make, with the obvious exceptions of firing failures, and a few painfully ugly, but necessary, experiments. Though I love making, I tend to do so when I have a particular reason: an order due, a show, an outlet needing work. Could I sell more if I could make more? Maybe. Could I make more than I do? I certainly could, without the inconvenient job, but not (immediately) enough more to make up the income. Could I make more without quitting the job? It seems like the answer should be yes, but somehow I don’t seem to have the time. What am I doing with all my time?
That’s the question, and what I’ll tackle about next.