The world of beading and jewelry making is not all sparkle and color. Sometimes we toss and turn all night worrying about our deepest, darkest fears:
You finally gather the courage to sell your jewelry and nobody buys it.
or
You finally gather the courage to sell your jewelry and nobody buys it, except your mother and she doesn't understand why you insist on mailing the bracelet to her when you could just hop on a plane to New Jersey and give it to her in person.
or
You finally gather the courage to sell your jewelry and nobody buys it, but an intriguing foreign businessman asks you to make 1,000 pairs of green plastic monkey
earrings by next week.
You call in sick for the next week so you can make green plastic monkey earrings. At the end of the week, you have 763 pairs of earrings, fingers that look like crooked twigs, and an inexplicable craving for bananas.
You miss the green plastic monkey deadline and the businessman refuses to answer your emails. Your boss at your day job fires you, since twig-like fingers aren't especially fast on the keyboard. You realize that you have no money to buy any more beads. Or rent.
You downsize into a studio apartment so tiny that you need to decide between keeping your beads or your toothbrush in the apartment's only drawer.
You decide you want both your beads and your toothbrush, so you spend a week using a temporary epoxy to affix all your beads to the bathroom walls, mirrors, and fixtures so you can just peel off the beads as you need them.
The epoxy turns out to be permanent.
And you used it on the door hinges. And the window. And the air vents.
Good thing you really like beads.
P.S. If you're a writer or know any writers, I highly recommend Holly Black's List of Authorial Worries, which was the inspiration for today's post. Happy Halloween!