Fear

I promised myself I would stay away from blogging, flash fiction meetings and letter writing until I had made a milestone in editing da book. Well, the milestone is now behind me, so here I be. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether that’s good news.

I was watching a speech by Melinda Gates and was inspired to write down the following: “Let’s not be afraid to fail. In fact, let’s be afraid to not try.”

Cool quote. Not the first person to express that sentiment but she expressed it well. And it got me to thinking (smell of burning circuits).

I get differing reactions from people when they learn my hobby and passion is writing novels. Of course, many of my friends are writers of one stripe or another, so their reactions are not the same as what I get from people who consider the creation of a shopping list a literary chore.

I get that. I get that some people consider writing a necessary core activity to their lives. And that others consider it something to be avoided at all costs.

For me, writing is something without which I would… well, to be honest I don’t know the answer to ‘what, if not writing.’ I suppose I’d play my guitar more but that’s a pastime, not a passion. Writing fills me with self-worth. A pursuit that begins with whimsical supposition is for me the height of creativity in a soul that cries out to create.

Being a writer is fun and funny, fascinating and (for me) fantastical. But honesty requires that I extend the alliteration to include one more f-word.

No, not that one. The word is fearful.

The Patent Desk is out for first round reading by several people I trust both for their literary acumen and for their honesty. The point being that they will give me feedback as needed to make the book and my writing of it better.

The thing is, I’m scared Trumpless at the prospect of allowing people I like and respect to read my work. I’d sooner go to the top of the highest building in Seattle and lean over the edge. Eat mushrooms. Let a butterfly land on me. And those of you who are familiar with my odd collection of phobias will appreciate that I’m talking serious fear.

Truth be told, I have to force myself every time to post a blog entry. Scares the pants off me.

It’s a fear of disappointing, I suppose. Alright, I know it is.

It’s a fear I’ve had to confront. Because the job of a writer is to communicate. And that’s not something you can do without a reader. So I have to press on.

When it comes right down to brass tacks, at 62 and counting I’m orders of magnitude more afraid of not trying than of trying and failing. Only Buddha knows how much time I have on this earth and I’m not inclined to waste any of it. I’ll spend as much as possible of that time writing.

If only it didn’t mean actually letting folks read my work.  (Yeah, I’m a puzzle.)