Confession time: I am afraid of everything. Okay, maybe not everything. I’m not afraid of poodles or chocolate cake (anymore). But most other things.
I’m afraid of talking to people in real life.
I’m afraid of talking to people online.
I’m afraid of talking about my book.
(Are you seeing a pattern here?)
I’m afraid of wearing tight clothes (thanks, eating disorder!)
I’m afraid of saying what I think.
I’m afraid of saying how I feel.
(The pattern continues.)
I’m afraid of getting the representation wrong in my book.
I’m afraid of people thinking I’m ugly/stupid/attention-seeking/generally awful.
I’m afraid of sharks, and aeroplanes, and driving my car, and sometimes I’m even afraid of EATING.
I’m afraid of pull-ups and chaturanga (especially since I broke my wrist last August, but let’s face it, I was always afraid of pull-ups and chaturanga.)
I’m afraid of wasps.
And having a typo in my book.
(Wasps and typos are somehow equal.)
I’m afraid of having a bad hair day when I happen to run into Amy Adams. (This will never happen.)
Okay, but you see what I mean? I’m afraid of SO MANY THINGS. It’s laughable, honestly. BUT. And this is a big but. BUT. Most of the time, I try not to act according to fear.
So, you will find me: talking to people, talking to people online, and talking about my book. (Ah!) You will find me wearing TIGHT NEON LEGGINGS TO GYM. (Seriously, they have TOUCANS on them.) You will find me eating. Every day. Which seems like a strange thing to count as an achievement but a few years ago this was not the case. What else? Oh, yeah, I wrote a book and it’s going to be published and I am trying to remain calm about the fact that other people are going to read it.
I don’t tend to approach wasps or sharks, but I’m working on that. (Kind of.) I approach typos with caution.
So you see? You can actually be afraid of literally everything and live a life that isn’t governed by fear.
Because, honestly, anything worth doing is scary. Really scary.
I’m trying to remind myself of this as I power through a draft of what I hope will be my second book. (*crosses fingers*)
Because the truth is, I’m really afraid to write this book. 2017 was the year of drafts-that-didn’t-go-anywhere and I’m so petrified that this draft is going to go the same way.
But does that mean I’m not writing it?
I mean, yeah, I’m not working on it *now* because I’m writing about being afraid, but right after I publish this blog post I am going to go throw some sentences into Word even though I am scared of dead ends, and being boring, and not getting anything right, and my CPs and agent hating what I write, because DAMMIT I NEED TO WRITE.
So, there you have it.
Do the scary stuff.
It’s always worth it.