Action Required

Everything you ever wanted is on the other side of fear. This month we are looking at some of the fears in our lives that can hold us back from achieving our dreams. Those little voices that tell us that we aren’t good enough, that change is bad, that we should be afraid of the unknown, that we are not enough. Since each one of our fears is totally unique to us I will be talking about some of the hurdles that personally hold me back and what I do to push them back. While they may not be applicable to everyone I hope you can see that what we fear can be overcome.

Years. It had been years since I had completed my last manuscript. The first story while not very good, was written in a flurry of activity, 61,000 words in just a few weeks. Spent and exhausted I think I slept for like a week afterward. I wanted to keep the momentum. Once I had a taste for it, I wanted to keep writing. When I got back on my feet, I was scribbling down notes and characters for the second book I called the Watchtower project (I pick a title later in the process). I sat down a few months later and started writing and came to a complete stop. It wasn’t working. I came back time and time again, each time with new ideas, more developed characters. Nothing stuck. I was so hopeful about keeping my momentum going. Instead, I felt like I had failed.

No matter what the task is, I automatically believe I will fail at it. It is one of the most persistent lies I tell myself. That little voice inside says “You’ll never get that great job.” I have tried to convince myself that I will never be a very good writer, artist, or content creator for years. I was afraid my work would never match the grandiose plans that I kept locked away in my head. This fear of failing, of not being good enough, of not being talented enough, is one I have found in other artists as well. Still, we create. We press on.

I had been working on my second story for a long time. Four years of misfires, dead ends, and bad writing. I started writing shorter stories, just to prove to myself that I could still write. The Watchtower project seemed like something I would never complete. Then a few days into November I randomly stumbled upon National Novel Writing Month. If you don’t know the goal of NaNoWriMo it is to get everyone to write their novel; participants have 30 days to write 50,000 words. It’s a breakneck race to complete and I was starting a few days behind. I was excited though. This time I would finally get Watchtower written down. I decided to start from scratch. I threw away the old versions of my story (I kept all of the notes, characters etc.) and began fresh. I sat there in front of that blank, white screen, my fingers hovering over the keys, and all of those doubts and fears of failure came rushing in. What if I really had lost my skills? What if I couldn’t get to 50,000 words? What if I put in all this work and it was just as bad as the previous story? What if I failed in every measurable way?

I swiveled my chair away from my desk. What if I really wasn’t a writer at all? Just someone playing pretend, fooling herself and those around her. I looked out the window, to the stars high overhead. Was I just wasting my time? No. No, I refused to back down. I wanted to tell this story. I wanted to share it with others. I turned back to the blank screen and attacked. One word followed by another and another. Sentences formed paragraphs; paragraphs turned into chapters. I wrote and wrote and wrote. November came and went, I had already passed 50,000 words, but my story was not yet done. I pressed onwards, determined to finish the Watchtower project. In the dead of night in mid-December, I typed six precious letters, “The End.”  and then sobbed at my desk. At last, it was done. At last, the story was told. The fears I had once harbored now seemed so small and insignificant.

The fears and doubts we have about ourselves, about our skills, or about our dreams, usually don’t come true unless we allow them too. Telling yourself you can’t do something because you will fail and then not even trying is a self-fulfilling prophecy. You will never know what you are capable of if you aren’t willing to go out and try. To banish these fears, I usually steel my nerves and take action. Each story I complete, every picture I draw is an act of defiance. Don’t let a fear of failure hold you back, write your stories, ask out that really cute girl, find that dream job you’ve always wanted. Sure, there might be pain if you do fail (and eventually we all will), but what if you succeed? What if your fear of failing was holding you back from something amazing? What if all you had to do to overcome your fear of failure was to prove to yourself that you really have nothing to fear at all?