The Necessary Terror Of Trying Something New

Deep thoughts on why selling cookies from your home is low-key scary 🍪

The air was hot and thick as I sat in a chair outside my home, a pool of sweat quickly forming on my brow. Four perfect chocolate chip cookies, nestled in a pink box and tied with a thin white ribbon, waited in my entryway inside. My brain was running a mile a minute.

“I want to be out here on my porch to greet my customer as she arrives, but it’s so hot and gross the cookies might get soggy, the chocolate chips might start to melt, they’ll get gross inside the box, and then this customer will leave a bad review, she’ll hate the cookies and curse herself for buying them from a complete stranger on the internet and I’ll be done before I even really get started.”

Perfect, logical, thinking. 

Time ticked on, and my customer’s pick-up time came and went. Five minutes late. Then ten. Then fifteen. I sent her a message and she didn’t respond. 

“She’s not showing up. She changed her mind. I’m sitting out here like an idiot and I made these cookies for nothing. Great. Cool. OK” 

I made my way inside, heart racing, like I got stood up from a date. 

Then, to my relief, she showed up on my doorstep 🤍

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A while back,  I shared that my New year’s resolution of getting comfortable in the kitchen wasn’t sticking. I realized I’m not a fan of cooking—quickly followed by realizing I AM a fan of baking. As I started collecting second hand Ina Garten cookbooks, I found myself immediately going to the very last section—dessert. Mains and appetizers didn’t interest me, but the fancy cakes did. The frozen mocha mousse with homemade whipped cream did. The apple pie bars did. So I decided to throw caution to the wind and start baking. Life is short. Why not?

Back in April, my Instagram algorithm started sending me baking content. I had just started sharing little treats, so it made sense, but one reel— all about how to start an at-home bakery— caught my attention. It was a free hour-long class, and since it piqued my interest, I jumped in. Of course, it was a preview to a larger class and a community of micro bakers, and while I was tempted, I didn’t invest. “This would maybe be cool to do at the yard sale this summer, but I don’t need to do this now,” I remember telling myself. The idea stayed planted at the back of my mind for weeks. And then, as I was walking Betty on a Wednesday evening, I saw a sign for the community yard sale. On Saturday. 

In a flurry of Google searches, Canva creations, impulse label maker and custom sticker purchases—I made two dozen cookies, two loaves of bread, named my bakery, created a logo and signed up for a cottage food business ID, all in time for the yard sale on Saturday. My husband helped me take our small tulip table from our breakfast nook and set-up a little bakery stand. Amidst about a dozen compliments from yard sale shoppers (“This is so cute!) I sold nearly all my cookies and both loaves of bread. The Cozy Crumb was born. And in short, it was a huge success. I kept a silent promise to myself. I did the thing. And I felt really proud.

Now at this point, it would make total sense to be done, at least in my experience as a Gemini with a million interests. I sold cookies and bread at the yard sale! We did it! On to the next! But something in my brain said, “No, no… you’re just beginning. You literally just signed up for a business ID number through the state of Maryland. Now you keep going!” Almost begrudgingly, I agreed with the voice in my head (God? The Universe? A little bakery guardian angel?) 

And that’s when the fear kicked in. 

Speaking to the high-achieving, perfectionist girlies in the room with us (I have a feeling if you’re here, you might be one, hehe): trying something new is SO SCARY. Right? Like sure, selling cookies at the yard sale is intimidating, but when you’re running on adrenaline, good vibes and a tight deadline, we’re unstoppable. But when you peel away the urgency and the thrill of beginning something new—we’re left with… a less shiny version of what we just had? The clarity to see the things that we need to work on? All the things that weren’t exactly perfect the first time we did them? Ugh.

Still—we’re brave and we’re cute and we know that things take time to build momentum. Even though we expect immediate success and get down on ourselves when we don’t like, sell a million things or get a million likes or have a million followers on the first try (ugh)—we logically know that good things take time. So we persist. Slowly but surely. 

I opened pre-orders for loaves of bread and boxes of cookies. 

…and sold one box of cookies. 

One. 

My perfectionist self threw a tiny tantrum. Of course, she expected to sell out, very similarly to the yard sale. And when the reality of having one customer instead of twelve hit, she didn’t like it.

Why don’t the people know that my bread and cookies are amazing? That they are going to be packaged SO beautifully? That I’m baking out of my adorable kitchen with so much love? They should be lined up outside my house! C’mon people!! Let’s go!! 

But underneath the tiny tantrum is really just a fear of not being liked, or accepted or that I’m offering something no one wants, which means that no one wants me. 

Which is, of course, nonsense.

But this is the necessary terror that comes with trying something new, and putting yourself out there. In my experience, the terror means you care. The nerves translate to feeling very deeply about something, and what a gift that is! Right? And also remember: literally everything works out for you. Literally everythingggg. 

This mantra saved me. Again. 

If everything is working out, this must mean that I get to put so much extra love and care into this single order, and that’s how it’s supposed to be. I get to play with cookie boxes and ribbon and take my time deciding what I want. I get to make a half batch of cookies instead of two full ones because that’s the magic of pre-orders. I get to make four perfect cookies, I get to package them beautifully, and I get to have a beautiful moment with one beautiful human. This is what’s supposed to happen. 

So that’s exactly what I did.

I baked my perfect cookies the day before, and for pick-up day on Saturday, I was struck by unexpected nerves. A stranger was going to drive to my house and pick up this box of cookies to take to her home. It all of a sudden felt…crazy?! And every single self-deprecating, disastrous thought filled my head. 

The cookies aren’t good enough, what if they got stale overnight, what if they’re not worth what I priced them for, what if she hates them, what if she leaves a bad review, what if she doesn’t show up, etc etc ect. 

I was chit chatting with a friend over Marco Polo, and she assured me that I was very much overthinking, and everything was great. I breathed deeply, waited for my single customer, convinced myself she wasn’t going to show up after waiting almost 20 minutes after her pick-up time… only to find her, smiling and apologetic at my door. 

We both learned about the messaging on the app she placed her order on (she sent me a message that she was running late and I never received it, and she never received mine!) and she was so excited about the cookies. She oooed and ahhhed over the pink box and ribbon and told me to keep posting about my bakery. 

We both cheerfully said goodbye, and as I walked back inside, I promptly got teary eyed. 

Perhaps it was because my nerves and dread subsided, perhaps it was because I was proven wrong (she did show up! She was so kind! And wonderful! And I just didn’t receive her message about her timing!) or maybe I was just proud of myself again. 

I know one thing is for sure—doing something new will always be scary. But nerves and dread and the fear of failing isn’t your sign to abandon ship. If anything, it’s a sign to keep going. 

I know this is just the beginning of my little at-home bakery. And I’m sure you’re at the beginning of something too, or maybe there’s a goal or a dream you haven’t started because it feels too scary. I totally totally get it. I’m so grateful I took the leap into something seemingly small, as I was met with something that feels extraordinarily large. Maybe baking cookies for your neighbors doesn’t seem like a big thing, but to me, it feels special and lovely and even intimate. I’m so grateful for taking the leap, I’m so grateful for my cute customer yesterday, and I’m so excited for what’s to come. 

Cheers to your courage, and for tiny dreams becoming reality!

xx, Kristen

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