A site launched that you don’t know about yet, and I’m terrified. My new friend (and advocate, and author, and damn fine seamstress and business woman) Deb says all emotions are variations on a theme of two other emotions: happiness and fear.

It’s both.

The only dreams I’ve bothered to chase in my life were ones I could attain. Ones that didn’t pose any real risk of failure: traveling solo to Ireland for a week, learning to knit (still haven’t advanced beyond scarves, if that’s any indication of my staying power and tenacity), bringing together a community of Twitter addicts in Atlanta, and of course the biggest of all – falling in love.

I’m finally trying something I may fail miserably at. I don’t plan to, but even getting out of bed and brushing my teeth presents danger of failure these days…as evidenced by my recent second adventure in deep root planning.

I’ve invested emotionally and financially in that which makes me happy: capturing time. It’s a love affair that started in elementary school when my eldest brother handed down his yellow Minolta, the underwater job that shot 110 film, the one I got a lot of under/overexposed and blurry shots out of. Photos I still have.

A few years ago The Mc gifted me with something that would change it all – my first “grown up” camera. Mocking me along the way, he continued to encourage me following what I love. I took workshops, joined the ranks of a few talented friends and took on a leadership role with a local photography based non-profit, did an internship with the uber talented and lovely Leah and Mark, spent random Tuesday nights at Elliot Street Pub with the APG crew (winning two shots of the week along the way), went on photo strolls with those who shared my passion, and saved for more gear to add to my arsenal.

Last week I had to rebuild a haphazardly thrown together site I built to support my photography and the potential to earn additional revenue with it. It was a site I’d thrown together and failed to tell anyone about, because of fear. Fear manifested as self-doubt (so many people are better than I am) and shame (there are SO MANY PEOPLE BETTER THAN I AM) and did I mention self-doubt (so many people are better than I am!).

Rebuilding it has caused me to approach it with fresh eyes. With pride, and a matching schizoid pep talk: you can do this! There will always be people that are better than you at everything. Is that a reason to stop trying? To hide? To run away from doing what you love?

This leap of faith felt a lot more like a hop off the Brooklyn Bridge than the delight of embarking on a new adventure. Terror sparks passion and creativity, I think. It must. Why else would my pseudo-surrogate father accuse me of being an adrenaline junkie?

Christmas morning I open the one present The Mc got me. One gift?! What the hell is this? “If it’s an electric toothbrush“, I warned him, “you’re in deep shit.”

It wasn’t. It was another camera. Another very nice camera. I spent the rest of the day alternating between mentally flogging myself and washing his feet.

So with The Mc behind me, and my friends – like Deb (who has me in her shop today shooting portraits), and Schurman (a colleague who challenged me to shoot every weekend for a year) and Leah and Mark who believed in me (even when they shouldn’t have *cough* Arthur Blank *cough*), and Kim who is always ready to be my assistant, and Gwen and Cindy and Karen and every other friend who is going unnamed but offered words of support and encouragement along the way – with that army of awesome – I’m doing it.

With trepidation, please allow me to introduce http://www.maighphotography.com