Diary Of A Start-Up Chicken wings, bloody lips--plus more pots of coffee than you can count. Here's what it's really like to start a business on the side.

It's 8:30 a.m. on Friday, the day I'm quitting mywell-paying job. My wife, Greer, and I make our way to the subwaythrough a torrential downpour. Because my hands are full, when weget to the turnstile, I shut our collapsible umbrella with my chin.The next thing I know, the umbrella flies back at me, almostknocking out a tooth.

My finger was still on the "open" button. Great.I've been planning this morning for weeks--in certain respects,for years--and it isn't supposed to happen this way. Up untilthe bloody lip, I'm running at 90 percent confidence and 10percent fear. Afterwards, it's 90 percent fear.

As the subway door shuts, I reflect on the events that haveled me, at 30, to this moment.

Friday, March 8, 1996: A new acquaintance, Tom,27, invited people for drinks. His apartment was full of oddlyshaped sponges and pot scrubbers--a sponge turtle with its shellscrubber; a fried egg sponge with its yolk scrubber. I asked if hehad a cleaning fetish. He laughed, then explained they were part ofa project he'd conceived in design school and planned to market. . . eventually.

My business background and prior attempts at BIZ Experiencesshipled me to ask him more questions about the sponges. To everyoneelse, the only thing odder than an apartment full of sponges wasthe two of us seriously discussing them.

Monday, March 24, 1996: I've been bumping intoTom frequently on the way to work. We always talk about thesponges. I ask about the economics and logistics.

Sunday, May 5, 1996: Tom and I rode in Bike NewYork, a 42-mile city tour, with friends. We talked sponges.He's calling them Soakies, which I think is a great name.

After the ride he asked if I wanted to be a 50 percent partner.His offer appealed to me for two reasons. First, by taking acommodity product and changing its shape and color, he'screated a new product. Second, manufacturing involves only spongecutting and package printing, so capital requirements aresmall.

Tom has a good disposition and a solid work ethic. Ourbackgrounds--Tom's in product design, mine is in finance andmarketing--are complementary.

With modest aspirations, I see this business as aresume-building experience; with aggressive ones, I see it as amultimillion-dollar company. Either way, this is something I wantto do. I've passed up two start-up opportunities since college,and don't want this to be the third.

Friday, May 10, 1996: We decided to build acompany around our product as opposed to selling a singleproduct line, primarily because of the difficulties of selling asingle product to big chains.

I spent the week educating myself about sponges. I never knewthey're manufactured in huge blocks the size of a Volkswagen,then cut down. Tom and I created a timetable: If we want theproduct in stores in nine months, we have to ship everything ineight months, create packaging in seven months, determine pricingand product image in six months, and so on.

Saturday, June 30, 1996: After many late nightsover coffee and buffalo wings, we've begun to see structure.We'll contract out manufacturing, warehousing and shippingwhile we focus on product development, marketing and distribution.We'll distribute through specialty stores such as Crate &Barrel and Williams-Sonoma, and superstores such as HomePlace andLinens `N Things.

Our revenue projections rest on selling one sponge a day--in 450stores--at a wholesale price of $2, for base annual revenues of$328,500. But since we'll be ramping up sales from a smallcustomer base, our first year's annual sales projections are$150,000. Next year, when accounts are in place, our runningrate will be $328,500. If we add new products and customers,second-year sales should hit $500,000. We estimate we need toborrow $20,000, but should be able to grow the company off of itsown cash flow.

Friday, July 6, 1996: The first step inimplementing our business plan--nailing down pricing--is difficult.Sponge cellulose is made by only three companies in the world.Getting huge companies like 3M to take two "kids"seriously is tough.

Thursday, July 11, 1998: Called the die-cutter 3Mrecommended, and learned there were huge production quantityrequirements. We used the Thomas Register of AmericanManufacturers--essentially a list of manufacturers organized bystate--and began cold-calling.

Friday, July 19, 1996: We found two localfactories and took a personal day from work to visit them. Weweren't impressed with the first; it was archaic and dirty. Thesecond was huge, clean and professional. We believe they'll dothe job well.

Sunday, October 20, 1996: Returning from an18-mile run with Greer, my marathon-training partner, I found twomessages on my machine--one from Crate & Barrel, one fromWilliams-Sonoma! I thought I was dreaming, because even thoughwe'd spent hours putting together a sales kit, we'dFedEx'd it to these retailers just last night. Both wanted moreinformation. Not a sale--yet--but we're on the right track.

Monday, January 6, 1997: Williams-Sonoma decidedour products are "too fun" for their stores, and thebuyer who liked Soakies has left Crate & Barrel. We'repursuing HomePlace, bloomingdale's, Macy's and Linens `NThings, but haven't heard back. Egos bruised, we decided totarget independent stores by exhibiting at the Boston GiftShow.

Saturday, January 18, 1997: The upcoming tradeshow is forcing us to finally manufacture our products. We need tofinance $15,000 in production costs, plus $5,000 in show costs.

We asked friends and family to invest in increments of $2,500with either a personally guaranteed 15 percent loan for one year,or phantom equity participation, whereby they receive 0.5 percentof every dollar that we sell. If, after two years, we haven'tpaid back their $2,500 plus an additional $2,500, they are investedfor the third and final year. So far, we've raised $15,000 andneed $5,000.

Monday, February 6, 1997: Today a conflict betweenour "real" jobs and our company surfaced: asking for weekoff to exhibit at the show. I couldn't risk my boss saying"no," so I spun a story about a close friend'swedding.

Every evening we drive an hour to my parents' house, wherewe're building the booth. My mom is waiting with dinner; my dadis brewing coffee. After five late nights, staying awake at work isa job in itself.

Saturday, March 15, 1997: A bad day. The last twoinvestors backed out. We are $5,000 short and need to pay the billor the factory won't ship us the sponges.

But there's some good news: One of Tom's best friends,Mike, told his brother what we're doing, and he wants to investin our business.

Saturday, March 22, 1997: At the trade show, wemade our first sale, along with many others! I can't describethe euphoria; everything we've been working on has beenvalidated. Everyone loved Soakies; we wrote orders all daylong.

Sunday, April 13, 1997: The show paid for itselfand generated solid sales leads. Bath & Body Works has sinceplaced a $20,000 order. Also, I've begun dating Greer--myrunning partner. Everything seems manageable.

Monday, November 10, 1997: I asked Greer to marryme. The business has been moving forward, but Tom and I have beenspending less time on it. Despite that, we've been able to fillthe big orders garnered from the trade show.

Wednesday, January 14, 1998: Something has tochange. Our business isn't going to hit critical mass until atleast one of us is running it full time.

Thursday, July 16, 1998: Today I started thinkingabout the company. Although we've taken sizable orders,customers and sales reps are frustrated that we're rarelyavailable when they call during business hours. I turned to Greer(now my wife) what she thought about me quitting my job. She wasextremely supportive.

Friday, August 14, 1998: To jump-start ourcompany, Tom and I decided to bid for a small producer of kitchengadgets that's for sale. We can re-brand its products under ourname and launch our own kitchen products--while using the cash flowto support ourselves and the company.

Saturday, August 22, 1998: The seller liked ourproposal, but has already accepted another offer. Tom and Irealized if our offer had been accepted, we would have quit ourjobs to run this new business, so why not quit our jobs torun our business?

Sunday, November 22, 1998: Tom is in San Franciscofor a job interview. The position would be a step forward for hiscareer, but the end of our partnership.

Monday, November 30, 1998: Tom's interviewwent well, but he told me, "if I take the job, I'm goingto wonder for the rest of my life about what this company couldhave become." We decided then and there to make the full-timecommitment to our business.

Soaking wet with my bloody lip and heart pounding, I call Tomto make sure he hasn't changed his mind. I hang up the phoneand walk to my boss's office.

I know it was the right thing to do--our latest products,Grippies hanging sponges, are now stocked in 75 HomePlace stores.Linens `N Things, Bed Bath & Beyond, and Lechters are allrolling out Grippies. Two magazines have even published articles onour products. But despite all this success, my partner and Irecently decided to sell the business to a competitor.

It was a wild ride, no doubt, but one I'm sure neither ofus will ever forget.

John R. Hendricks co-founded CounterCulture LLC in New YorkCity.