SUMMER SALE ON MY ANNUAL CALENDAR
In which I advertise myself, tell you about small steps, and encourage you to play pretend, too.
I recently opened up an Etsy store to list my printable calendar planning tool and was surprised to see the other day that I made a sale!
I’m writing today to share my store because I hadn’t even advertised it here. But I also want to share what held me back from trying this earlier, and encourage those of you who, like me, tend to choose inaction for fear of doing things “the wrong way.”
My ADHD brain comes up with random ideas on the regular. Not all ideas should be acted on, of course, but one of my growing edges is to mellow out on the over-analyzing of the possibly good ideas, and take some action.
The vague notion of trying out an Etsy store to sell disparate things—digital printables, some of my sketches, my “famous granola” (as my niece calls it), or the fragrance-free dishwasher detergent we make at home—had been rolling around in my brain for more than a year, but it wasn’t a clear goal of mine, because I didn’t know if it was a good idea.
"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be." ― Kurt Vonnegut
I’m so thankful for my creative communities of late (most especially Exhale, and my mastermind group) for regularly encouraging me to simply try things out. (My mastermind group is full of neurospicies who share my idea-churning sensibilities.)
I can be easily swayed by what is the “best” way to do something, and I’m especially influenced by other people’s opinions. A small-business coach had recently dissuaded me from Etsy since it can be an oversaturated market.
I looked into Shopify, but it felt too serious for me right now. Etsy has a comparatively easy entry-point: it cost me $15 to open my store and $0.20 to list my first (and currently, only) product. For a hesitant, Hamlet-like artist like me, that low cost was a sure sign that I should jump in.
Even if I don’t make another sale out of the store, it’s been worthwhile for the discovery that the water’s not so cold out here. I have the immense privilege of being able to play and work in ways that feel right to me. I don’t have to make any money from my art, or work a set number of hours a week on my craft.
It’s a frightening type of freedom, since it’s on me to create the kind of constraints that lead to sustainable creativity.
People with ADHD and/or are Enneagram 6s can probably relate to feeling like a bundle of contradictions. I covet people who have jobs that make sense to outsiders, but I know I would totally hate it if I had a career like that.
I’m glad it’s not my full-time job to be an artist, though. The very notion of creating something from nothing is ABSURD and terrifying. And yet I—and all artists—feel this pull. We can’t not make things. We feel itchy or depressed when we’re not creating. We feel revived and restored when we are.
For some months, I’ve been mulling over how rarely we see the beginning stages of people’s careers. I don’t know if it makes any sense, but I’m very interested in documenting my weird personal journey of figuring out who I am (maybe more “what I do” because it kind of sucks that in the 21st century I’m not always confident answering "stay-at-home mom” even though it’s an incrediblyvaluablethoughunderpaidjobblahblahblah) because I don’t think enough people share from the unknown beginnings or messy middles.
In fact, it would seem presumptuous to talk about one’s humble beginnings when one is the middle of said beginnings. We only hear about people’s process after they become successful, because we want to know their secret.
As someone who’s never thought she had a clear calling, I’ve struggled to feel confident I’m on the right path. But in this last year, I’ve at least felt like I’m on a path.
There’s an endless amount of putting one foot in front of the other. I’m not very good at taking the next step when I don’t see where it’s leading, but I’ve been practicing taking the tiniest step of action even when I’m uncertain of the outcome.
So, no, I don’t know if any of my current or future efforts will amount to anything worth writing about (but I’m writing about it anyway! and that makes me a writer!), but I still think it’s worth making these efforts.
—-
In Mo Willems’ I’m a Frog!, Gerald (the elephant) is very confused by Piggie’s ability to just pretend to be a frog. “You can just go out and pretend to be something you are not!?” Piggie responds, “Sure. Everyone pretends.” Gerald, uncertain, asks, “Even grown-up people?”
Piggie’s reply? “All the time.”
The paradox is that adults pretend to be something they are not all the time, but often in ways we quietly criticize or give the side-eye to.
But I think there’s an invitation here to grow into childlikeness, and to pretend to be things we’ve never tried—but have always wanted to.
I have pretended to be a writer and an artist for the better part of a year now, something I didn’t have courage to do when I was 16, or 22, or even 35. (I have Beth Pickens’ book Make Your Art No Matter What to thank for learning to claim that my art doesn’t have to make money for me in order for me to call myself an artist.)
In the last year especially, I’ve been showing up for myself (with the support of my friends, and you readers!)—following whims, taking risks to put myself out there—but keeping as authentic to myself as possible.
There are so many ways to work for recognition and/or compensation; however, I would rather have obscurity and peace than fame with a fractured sense of self. I’m finding little ways to “act as if” while still maintaining my integrity.
It feels so “pretendy” to send an article to a magazine for publication. But I did it! And they published it!
It feels so “pretendy” to call myself an artist. But I’ve produced 91 sketches in the last 6 months and a lot of them are pretty darn good.
It feels so “pretendy” to open up an Etsy store with only one product. But I did it, and one person has already purchased a copy. (And it’s not my mom!)
Starting small doesn’t mean it has to grow. I don’t have to now publish a book, or sell a painting, or make a thousand dollars in sales in order to validate these small steps. They’ve been worth it in their own right.
Small steps matter too.
Pretending can be scary, but it can also be fun.
Is there something you want to play pretend at? Being a(n):
artist?
teacher?
children’s book author / illustrator?
memoirist?
hiker / backpacker?
full-time line dance instructor?
novelist?
stay-at-home mom?
poet?
CEO or president?
journalist?
doctor?
TikTokker?
small-business owner?
This is your permission slip to take the teeniest step in that direction. It doesn’t have to become a goal or part of a 5-year plan.
It can just be pretend.
—
With that said, allow me—brand new store owner [with a flourish]—to show you what I made!
I designed a four-page quarterly (digital printable) calendar to help me see the big picture. As an ADHDer who is very prone to OOSOOM (out of sight, out of mind) syndrome, regular monthly calendars fail me. My anxiety rises as I get to the end of the month because I have *no idea* what’s going to surprise me when I turn the page.
I love a calendar that flows right into the next week at the end of the month. Now I don’t have to be surprised about something on a Wednesday or Monday just because it’s the first of a new month.
I use this in my analog planner for one-off appointments rather than regular or recurring events. It gives me a zoomed-out lens on my schedule, and helps me see busier seasons and prepare for them ahead of time.
The first quarter starts with September, October, and November. This will likely work well for families whose school year doesn’t start until September (like mine), but may be unaligned with other schedules. (I primarily did this because I have kiddo birthdays on January 2 and 6 and need to not be surprised.) Please reach out to me if you’d like me to make a custom calendar for you.
If you want to test the calendar out before purchasing, I’ve listed the summer quarter printable on my Substack for free.
Paid subscribers have free access to the full calendar.
If you’re not a paid subscriber and you’d like to purchase the printable calendar, you can do so at my Etsy store for $3.25. I’m running a 20% off promotion for readers with the code LISADHD20 until July 15, 2024.
