The first market of the year is a wrap.

Pause.

Initiate deep, relaxed exhale.

With any event I present my products at, the first problem is always deciding which market is going to be the best fit for me. And if I'm not careful, I end up looking like this meme:

The first questions to answer are the easiest:

• When is it?
• Am I available?

The questions steadily get more involved, but usually involve numbers:

• Where is it?
• How much is it?
• How many other vendors will be there?
• What are the hours?
• What day of the week is it on?

While I'm busy thinking, my partner is giving me these vibes:

The questions become more hypothetical, sometimes blending personal obligations with business goals:

• If I attend this event, will I have time to make more product before the next one?
• It costs x-amount to participate, they're expecting y-amount of people, there are z-amount of similar vendors, so how much can I anticipate selling?
• My nephew's birthday is the day before; will I be able to attend his party and still have time to prep?
• How do I convince everyone that Frasier Fir is a great year-round scent?

After getting it all sorted out, I submit the applications. I'm feeling good:

The decisions have been made.

The applications have been submitted.

The dates have been saved.

The excitement has been built.

And then I hear back that I've been waitlisted. 

Back to square one. Repeat all of the above, add into the equation my lack of acceptance at initial events, rinse, repeat.

Honestly, though, I don't mind the process. I enjoy the puzzle, and I like it when I can solve one portion of it. I like the curve balls. I like the chaos.

It's fun.

But at some point, I'm going to get burnt out on all of this. The preparation, research, and disappointment will start annoying me. The thoughts of "is this worth it?" will grow, and something will give.

Until then, I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing. I'm going to continue to solve the puzzle and celebrate my victories. 

I'm going to have fun.