She emailed me and said something so simple. When are you going to start selling your work? I read it and laughed. I have no idea how to even approach such a thing. Plus, who'd want to buy, as in pay money for, my pictures? Silly right?
Then I told Martin what she said and chuckled as I did at the ridiculousness of the idea, waiting for him to laugh back. Except he didn't.
Now I'm reading stuff online and asking questions and putting together a group of pictures for friends to critique, all the while hiding under the couch waiting for them to laugh and tell me I'm silly. Your pictures are nice, but they aren't professional. You need to know everything in this here big stack of books if you want to be good enough to sell your pictures. Then I'll crawl out and laugh and say I know, I was just checking.
What do I know? Nothing. Well, I know I don't even dare breathe the words and I feel bare naked in front of the whole world when I don't like being in public in a bathing suit. And I can't even remember the password for my paypal account if it still exists and I'm not good at remembering to mail stuff and I have cows so I can't possibly have time for this. I know that.