Chrish’s story: From Melting Wax to College Cash (Yeah, I have a Lifetime film, not really, would be cool though, hint hint … hummmm)

So, let me take you back to a time when I was just a bright-eyed high schooler with dreams bigger than my bank account. That summer, my grand plan was simple: make candles and rake in the dough. I thought, “How hard could it be?” Spoiler alert: harder than it looks. Also I got a burn on my left arm that, ’till this day looks like a p*nis, thanks wax!

I am sure you are all imagining me now: surrounded by wax, wicks, and a melting pot that looked like something out of a science experiment gone wrong or a witch’s lair (they live in lairs right?). My first attempt? Let’s just say it resembled more of a wax explosion than an artisanal candle. I had visions of selling these beauties at the local farmer’s market but ended up with what can only be described as “abstract art.” My friends would laugh—mostly because they had no idea whether to call it a candle or modern decor.

I learned quickly that there’s an art to candle making. Damn, I knew it was too easy to be true. There’s also a science. Double damn! Why didn’t anyone tell me that essential oils shouldn’t be added willy-nilly? For your information you add them nilly-willy, this works much better. The first batch turned our kitchen into what can only be described as a “lavender nightmare.” It smelled like grandma’s perfume exploded in there, but hey, at least grandma loved it!

But despite the early flops—oh boy, there were flops—I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. With each misstep (or should I say fire hazard? My uncle’s a member of the local fire department, at least he was until he went into retirement, and told me so), I picked up valuable lessons along the way. Like how not to mix scents from different seasons… because peppermint and pumpkin spice together is nothing short of disgusting, also cinamon works with remarkably little besides cinnamon! And my first attempt at dyeing candles? Let’s just say I learned that having vibrant red pillars isn’t always the best marketing strategy (thank you very much, Red Hulk . . . yeah, he’s a thing).

Fast forward several weeks—and countless trials later, (friend’s all told me they were great)—I finally started hitting my stride! After figuring out the right wick lengths and perfecting my scent combinations (a little vanilla goes a long way, not really as well with cinnamon as you’d think), things began to change for me. Suddenly those wonky blobs morphed into actual candles people wanted to buy! Can you believe it? I did the bathtub money bath, but mostly with loose change, but quarters are still money.

So here’s where the story gets interesting: not only did I sell enough candles at local craft fairs, but I also made way more money than I ever imagined possible once I started offering them online. Who knew that all those hours spent in my kitchen battling molten wax would translate into cash for college tuition? Sure, some might call it luck, I called it lucrative and didn’t really care; others might chalk it up to sheer determination (and maybe professional-grade scented disasters) like I did. But really? It was about learning from every failed attempt and embracing those messy moments along the way.

And guess what? By the end of that summer, instead of dreading college debt like most students do—there I was feeling pretty accomplished with money for the summer, money for tuition, and even some extra cash in hand for more candles. I was sixteen at the time. One summer down, a few more to go. I did it for a few more years, etsy was good to me, ebay not as much. With candle-making under my belt, who would’ve thought I’d blaze through college without burning out financially? Actually, at the start of my second year I sort of retired since I didn’t have enough time to focus on it and my reviews started to look more negative, which you know means I sold less.

The biggest takeaway? Whether you’re trying your hand at small businesses (hey, here I am again) or navigating life’s chaotic moments—embracing failure can lead you down some unexpected paths of success. So if your first <ATTEMPT> ends up being more laughable than lovely, don’t lose hope! You never know; with enough practice (or research before hand) and persistence (and perhaps fewer scented disasters, lavender still triggers me), you might just find yourself lighting your way toward something fantastic, or at least lucrative.

Now here’s a question for you: What have been your hilarious attempts at starting something new (please don’t tell me you’re the creator of Kindergarten: The Musical that would be crazy)? Trust me; sharing those stories makes us all feel better about our own quirky journeys! This was one of mine, for me, a growing experience.