Some of the students in my pottery class are getting hyped up for the annual student show. I’ve attended it before (as a purchaser, not a potter), so I’m familiar with the set-up, but I didn’t know what the process was behind it.
Apparently students who want to participate have to sign up, volunteer to bring some food, and then stick price tags on their stuff. I’m not participating, mainly because I’ve been focused on smaller pieces, but also because I don’t have a ton of stuff that I think is purchase-worthy. Even so, it’s been fun watching other students starting to freak out about it.
Remember the guy I referenced a few weeks back? Of course he’s participating, so yesterday I enjoyed hearing Jill (the owner) trying to coach him in (what I assume is) an attempt to avoid a train wreck with an audience.
“I have two pieces of advice for you,” she told him. “First, a lot of new students get really excited and hyper. They have a lot of nervous energy and they’re kind of spastic. Try not to be that way when there are people here. They won’t buy your shit and you’ll probably break something.”
“What’s the second piece of advice?” he asked, dismissing the first offering.
“Pricing. Don’t price anything ridiculously low – like a dollar – but generally you should probably price a bit lower than you think — you want your shit to sell.”
“It’s going to be hard to price my stuff,” he began explaining. “I mean, I look around and it’s just not similar to anyone else’s pieces. It’s really unique.” (I looked up and saw what looked like an assembly line of bottles coming off his wheel, remarkably similar to the pieces created by the person next to him.)
Jill must’ve done the same thing, because she said, “Easy with the ego, pal. Your shit isn’t that different.”
Amen. That’s probably sage advice for a lot of situations.
pithypants 
Be honest. You go for Jill, not the clay. Even if she taught a class on making your own yogurt (and I KNOW how you feel about mushy dairy products), you’d sign up.