That Which Scares Us
Title Unknown - Daniil Kozlovsky (full image below)
We all have things that scare us, unsettle us, or shake us to our core. Some people are afraid of the dark (literal or metaphorical). Some people are afraid of snakes or spiders. Some people get sweaty and panicky if their feet leave the ground by more than a foot or two. Some people tremble at even the suggestion of speaking in public.
Some fears appear more rational than others. The mouse that terrifies my mother is considered adorable by my niece. The debilitating tremble I get on a ladder is barely a thought to my nephew as he works his job. The sight of a towering roller coaster is a promise of thrills to my friends but an immediate "Nope" from me.
There are those who hide their fear better than others. They exhibit courage and iron wills that promote awe in those around them. There are those that lack fear when basic survival instincts should recommend otherwise. Somehow these nitwits end up YouTube celebrities or featured on the nightly news (I don't claim to understand it either, but it seems to be a thing). And then there's those who base their very existence entirely motivated by their fears: They view the world as it's colored by their fears. They make decisions as dictated by their fears. They judge and interact with (or avoid) others as their fears tell them to. They look to leaders who feed into their fears and who manipulate them with ease. Fear is no longer their not-so-subtle guide, it is their master.
"But, C. Robert, what does this have to do with writing? Is this another 'Eeyore' post? Because we stopped reading those a while ago."
Fear is the nemesis of creativity. It sows seeds of doubt. It paralyzes the drive to try new things. It tells us not to take risks or put effort into that which may lead us into harm or failure. It pleads with us to stick with the things that we know are safe and certain and familiar.
When I finished writing "Ash to Ashes," I was plagued with fear and anxiety. "What if this fails?" "What if this succeeds?" "What if people hate this?" "What if people love it and want more?" "What am I getting myself into?" The list goes on and on. At the end of the day, I simply had to tell myself that this is what I wanted to do and push forward. I faced my fear and more or less succeeded.
"Wolfkin" hit a major snag in the writing process because I had fears of how people would react to the revelation that two of the main characters were gay (or bi, in the case of the one character). It made me incredibly anxious to know that publishing the book might not just be a professional risk as an author, but also a personal risk as a person living in a small, rural, hyper-conservative town. This wasn't just an idle concern, either. I had just watched one friend get run out of town by anonymous threats to his life for coming out as a gay man just a few months before "Wolfkin" went to print. And yet, I went ahead and finished the manuscript and published it as it was originally written because I felt it was a story worth telling. The fact that "Wolfkin" has received a much weaker response than the first book has done little to quell my prior fears. (I have yet to see a bad review. It just doesn't seem to have sparked much of a response at all, which is almost worse in terms of exposure and promotional efforts.) I recognize now that this lingering concern has fueled part of my lackluster effort to promote this particular book. It may be influencing other people's delay in promoting it as well. At this point, I just don't know, and that only fuels my fears more.
"Book 3" has been a fear-riddled, anxiety-laden, foot-dragging mess from the get-go. The quality of work that is going into this project doesn't show this (I hope!), but the production timetable certainly does. I'm writing about real life marginalized people in a fantasy setting of my own design and terrified that I'm representing them wrong. I'm writing a rather complex lead character that will ultimately hammer down on more than a few major social hot-buttons and the potential backlash scares the bejeebus out of me. I'm watching the weeks and months fly by around me and grilling myself over how long this project is taking. To make matters worse, I'm looking at this slow-ass progress while I'm considering moving to traditional publishing and recognizing that this sort of pace won't fly with an agent or publishing house that is expecting the full series in a timely manner. (After all, I'm no George R. R. Martin. Yet.)
In the mean time, I've been dealing with (so to speak) the stress and anxiety of attempting to find a sustainable job that fits my needs as I grapple with the fact that my current sales and marketing efforts are getting me nowhere (as evidenced by my shrinking bank account). Not getting said job has rekindled old financial concerns, which leads to more fears of the unknown... it really just keeps snowballing from there.
AND YET...
This week I managed to write four more chapters in "Book 3." It felt incredibly good to make that kind of progress again after losing so much time in the weeks before. I was excited to return to the story each time I sat down. I was eager to tackle the stumbling blocks I was faced with in shaping the narrative. Writing this week didn't feel like "something I should do while I wait to hear about that job." This week it felt like it WAS my job again. It felt like what I was meant to do. It wasn't my obligation to fulfill for the benefit of others; it was my own personal calling to strive for once again.
Don't get me wrong. The financial concerns are still there (hello end of the month, you miserable bastard). I know that the minimal returns I got last year will be more than surpassed (by a whole lot) when I go to have my taxes done. The uncertainty of how to improve my promotional efforts is ever present. The gaping void of uncertainty is looming there in front of me. I have a million questions and concerns about when, how, and if I should find an agent to pursue traditional publishing. This will, in turn, require a decision that will need to be made hopefully sooner rather than later.
But there were four times this week where all of that fell away. I shut out my fears, I turned on my computer, and for four times this week I created something that was fun and exciting and full of potential. I fought back against my arch nemesis and I struck a telling blow. I fought the fear and won my battle four times this week. That's something to celebrate and feel good about for a change.
I may not always be the bravest or strongest man I know, but I can at least be a stubborn bastard when it matters.
Whatever fears you're facing, whatever uncertainty is weakening your resolve, keep fighting, my friends. It's ok to be afraid sometimes. It's ok to feel unsure. But never, ever, stop fighting.
