First of all, I’ve never really thought of myself as sentimentalist. Sure, I sometimes sob at tearjerker chickflicks. And a cracking good animation or a sublimely elegant algorithm or hardware that really IS “plug and play” or somebody just being nice for no good reason or truly amazing or content-rich art invariably results in leaky optics. And maybe I get a little misty eyed at certain scents or songs or…

OK, I’m as sentimental as all get-out. My creative side, however, is about as sentimental as a rock. A cold, hard, cash-on-the-barrelhead, businesslike rock.

I’ve created maybe 4,500 articles, books, videos, websites, etc. Taken a gazillion photographs. You pay me for that stuff, you can do whatever the heck you want with it. Ditto with glasswork–once it leaves my hands you’re welcome to wash it in the dishwasher. Toss rocks at it. Use it as a hockey puck. It’s only glass, right? I can always melt it down and make another.

So would somebody please explain why that doesn’t work with my glass sculpture? Today I actually found myself wondering if the people buying this stuff will give it a good home. Will they light it properly? Install it out of the way of flying baseballs and careless vacuum cleaners? Will they put it in a place of honor or use it to prop up an uneven table leg?

Oh, brrrrrother. I swear, I’d have an easier time selling puppies and kittens to shifty-eyed men driving trucks marked “INHUMANE ANIMAL TESTING LABS.”

It dawned on me tonight that, although most of my heartwork leaves the house within a couple days of completion, I’ve never actually tried to sell one. Instead, I give it to friends and relatives, which means I retain what amounts to unlimited visitation rights while reducing the number of household items needing regular dusting. Ideal situation, that.

Talking about heartwork, putting it on display, blogging about it…the response has been gratifying and I’m thrilled that it’s receiving the highest compliment of them all: Somebody else’s cash. At the same time I’m also seriously considering shoving it all back in the closet to keep it safe. Much less complicated that way.

Ah well. At some point, my flint-eyed greed will take over, I’ll don my professional marketing creative hat and sell my babies on the auction block without a twitch. It is–say this loudly and firmly–ONLY GLASS.

For heaven’s sake.

Does anybody else have this problem? How the heck do you get past it?