One of my friends recently came up with a great business idea; not only that, she has the space already picked out, and it’s affordable. Her idea is something I can get behind, too–in theory. In practice, however, I’m discovering that there’s really only a couple things I actually give a @#!$ about. And one of them isn’t trying to entice people to spend money at my place of business.

The funny thing is I already have a side-venture. I write and silkscreen t-shirts, which I sell at www.zencommandments.com. I like to write tees, and I love to wear them. Heaven knows, though, I’m terrible about self-promotion. It takes everything I have to set up stock on a folding table at Christmastime. Trying to drive traffic to my web site is beyond the realm of possibility.

There’s only so much “me” that I can promote. Query letters are excruciating! I swear it takes me as long to write a bio as it does to write the entire novel. (If I wanted to talk about myself, I would still be writing poetry.) But those are all smooth sailing compared to asking people to part with their money on a daily basis, and then tabulating those dollar bills to pay my mortgage.

The thought of having to rely on people’s generosity for my entire take home pay makes me squeamish.

I wish I could get behind a solid entrepreneurial effort like my friend’s idea–it would be a ball to work together. But I really have no energy for such a venture. I need a steady source of income until I can generate it myself with writing.

I’m selling myself this year. I hope.

Until then, I will cash my steady checks and accept the fact that I’m bored because I’m fearful.