The artist entrepreneur

In case you hadn't noticed, life is tough these days for those of us in consumer electronics. With consumer confidence at the lowest point I've seen in my lifetime, discretionary income -- what little of it people have these days -- isn't going toward nice-to-haves, like radio enhancements. It's being spent on perceived must-haves, like digital TV sets and set-top boxes (although now you can blow it off until June since Congress passed the "DTV Delay Act").

During the slump we at 3D Radio haven't ceased thinking up great additions to our groundbreaking technology. Our intellectual property portfolio keeps on growing; we've already filed for two new patents this year.

But business development has just about ground to a halt. Our business development executive (that would be me) can hardly bring herself to do the outreach she knows needs to be done because she knows the response will probably be a resounding "Maybe." At least with "No" you know definitively where you stand: Don't call me I'll call you. "Maybe" still leaves the door painfully ajar.

Ms. Bizdev had an interesting revelation recently during a group coaching session with her business coach. The coach led the the group through a guided meditation (this is Boulder, after all) designed to provide a kind of professional vision quest.

During the five-minute interlude I found myself hiking up one of Boulder's many foothills trails. (I haven't actually hiked in months because of my bum hip, so the visualization was very therapeutic in itself.) At one point we were told to open a book and read a random page in it. My Bible-size book had no name; the page read simply "Keep going."

Once returned from our journeys and back at our desks, we were asked what our book's message was. Mine was very clear: Don't let the current economy get you down -- keep 3D Radio going."

But how to keep up my enthusiasm for a project that has felt like one step forward, two steps back? How to maintain my interest when really, truly, I'm having a lot more fun being a potter than a high-tech entrepreneur? How to infuse business development with the creative spirit I feel when building a ceramic coffee cup?

The answer? Right here on this page.

Remember it's the journey, not the destination. Remember the story of the journey is just as legitimate as the finished product. Remember the story has an emotional arc, and it takes an artist to express that movement and growth.

So write about it why don't you?

Groundhog Day

Last Friday when I got out of bed I was most of the way across the room when I realized I wasn't limping. "It's been six weeks," I said to my husband. "I'm not limping. I guess I'm done."

They tell you it takes about six weeks to recover from total hip replacement surgery. And on day 42 sure enough I walked cane-free.

What I don't know is how long it takes to recover mentally.

The past couple of months I've been telling myself, come February I gotta get back to work.

As I eased back last week (didn't want to pop out of the ground suddenly today) I did some writing and editing for friends and clients (my "day job"), glazed a kiln-full of pots and sold four (my new craft business), and thought about what needs to be done next for 3D Radio (my entrepreneurial exploit into consumer electronics and the raison d'etre for this blog).

But haven't done a damn thing yet except launch Blogger. My shadow indicates six more weeks of procrastination ...

Across the universe

Sometimes the universe knows more about you than you do.

I don't mean that you have no privacy. That goes without saying when Google tracks everything you do online.

I mean often the universe gives you hints about yourself that you don't yet know on a conscious level.

Let me explain.

During the time I've been out here promoting 3D Radio I've also been indulging in a creative pastime. I make pots.

A longtime collector of unique handmade pottery, I took up the craft a couple of years ago as an antidote to my desk job. I've studied with Boulder potter Willi Eggerman and taken classes at the Boulder Potters' Guild and our municipal pottery lab.

For a long time I wasn't very proud of my handiwork, but friends and family always appreciated my misshapen, oddly glazed cups and bowls as I gave them away.

Gradually my pots got more stable and my confidence grew. I knew if I had the opportunity to work on them more -- if I wasn't limited to class and lab time -- they would get even better. So I decided to put together a home studio.

I began to search for used equipment on craigslist, and that's when the universe started to tell me I was on the right path.

The slab roller came from a former potter whose daughter told her it was time to get rid of all that stuff gathering dust in the garage. She threw in all her slump molds, stamps and boxes of chemicals and glazes I'm still trying to figure out what to do with.

The extruder had been a Christmas gift from a husband to his wife, a potter who had everything. She used it once, then it languished in the basement. The price was terrific, but I didn't really want to schlep the 60 or so miles to her home. Not to worry, she said. She needed to move her son into his Boulder apartment for the next semester at the University of Colorado. So it came to me.

Obtaining the kiln was the most challenging part of the process, but it too was a gift from the universe. $800 for a never-been-used electric kiln in nearby Estes Park sounded too good to be true, so I immediately called the guy listing it.

His first question was "Where are you located?"

"Right down the road in Boulder."

"Oh good. So far I've only heard from people in California." He then proceeded to tell me a tale of love and fate.

In 1995 a man bought his wife a state-of-the-art kiln. She had no use for it and it remained in boxes in the basement for eight years.

In 2003 the couple divorced. They owed the Estes Park potter money, but he accepted the kiln in lieu of payment.

He never made the time to hook it up, and it sat in boxes in his basement for five years.

Then medical bills began to pile up and he needed cash, so one Saturday onto craigslist went the kiln. For a reason he couldn't explain, it was listed in Ventura, Calif. All weekend he took calls from people too far away to economically ship it to. Monday he finally figured out the problem and reposted the ad. I called, we made a deal, and on Tuesday he delivered the boxes "because I need a road trip into Boulder anyway," he explained.

My pots have been piling up, and I've been thinking of venues to sell them. On a whim I called a holiday craft fair. "Oh, we've heard of you," said the organizer. Sounded odd to me, but she asked for a dozen coffee cups, four woven bowls, and assorted cruets and pump bottles.

During today's appointment at a local gourmet shop, Oliv You & Me, the owner bought a couple of cruets and one of my signature woven bowls.

The universe is telling me I'm on a roll, or at least a slab roller.

Time management

During the past couple of weeks I've noticed a real change in my attitude. OK, noticed isn't the right word because I actually made a decision about time management.

The decision? Work on 3D Radio first during the day, then move onto my "day job."

It might not sound like a great breakthrough, but the successes we've had since then prove it was the right thing to do.

For most of 3D Radio's life I worked as a newspaper editor, a job that consumed the bulk of my time and energy. I enjoyed it immensely, but knew that to make our startup fly I needed to devote more time and energy to that.

So when an offer to work part-time doing another communications-heavy job with people I knew and respected at a much higher hourly rate, it was obvious what to do.

The Protestant work ethic in me (yes, even Jews are susceptible) leaped in to do the best damn job I could for my new colleagues. Each morning I'd tackle my projects with enthusiasm.

Satisfied with my progress, I'd turn to 3D Radio. But it was already mid-afternoon. I was running out of creative steam. Those folks on the East Coast I should be connecting with were wrapping up their days. Bike trails beckoned. My pots I drying at the Pottery Lab were probably firm enough to complete and put on the bisque shelf.

The bottom line -- even with our bizdev guy in place we were treading water.

Now we're starting to swim.