Today’s article is written by regular contributor Christi Craig.
The summer I turned fifteen, my father came into possession of a used Vespa: shiny, red, and in excellent shape. It sat in the garage for weeks at first, and I imagined myself taking it out, sitting on the leather seat a few times with the kickstand locked in place.
My dad must have seen me out there. Maybe he hated to think of the Vespa idle in the garage while he was at work all day. Probably, he grew tired of my complaints about having little to do and no way to get there even if I did. So one day, he took me outside and said he was going to teach me to ride it.
I should have been elated, right? A chance at my own means of transportation. A Vespa, for crying out loud (though at fifteen, I had no idea just how cool that was). Instead, I watched him push it off the stand and roll it out of the garage, and saw the Vespa in a new light: a monster, red and heavy and able to eat me alive once I gave her some gas. I only weighed about eighty pounds, always stick thin and made mostly of air. When I registered the bulk of the machine, there was no way, I told my dad, I could ride that motorcycle.
My dad doesn’t give up easily. Once he has it in his head to do something, he gets it done. I’m very much like him, except in the opposite way: once I decide I won’t do something, I usually don’t. But, I gave it a good try.
I sat in front of him, and he talked me through several starts and stops. With his arms around me and hands next to mine on the handlebars, he showed me how to work the gas and clutch at the same time. We circled the cul-de-sac, and he put his foot down each time we about fell over (which was often). And, each time the Vespa leaned, weighted and unsteady, I said, “Dad, I can’t.”
It’s too big.
I’m too scared.
Finally, he said, “Listen. When it comes to riding motorcycles, a little fear is good. Those guys who get too cocky, think they know what they’re doing? Those are the guys who crash.”
Always wanting to impress my father, I tried again the next day, and maybe once more after that. But, I never got the Vespa out of the cul-de-sac. Not of my own accord. Whether I was too stubborn or too afraid, I don’t know. What I do know is that my father’s words stayed with me long after he sold the Vespa.
I recount that story, because I just sent 20 pages from the second draft of my novel to a fancy writing retreat to be read by someone who could have quite a bit of sway on the progress of this book. I would have loved to send 20 pages of a finished, well-critiqued, rewritten again and again manuscript, but there wasn’t time. News of the deadline came on short notice. So, the week before I sent it, then the day before, and the minute before I hit Enter, I was utterly and completely afraid. I had to remind myself of that Vespa and my father’s words. Fear at a time like this is normal and even beneficial.
Fear keeps my ego in check.
I don’t want to be some cocky guy who crashes and burns. If I’m not afraid, if I think, “Oooh, I’ve got this, I’ll just punch out a few pages of fancy prose, check the spelling—boom,” I’m likely not humble or open enough to hear when and where more work can be done, where I might improve my craft, so that the story reads stronger. I might reach the end of the road to publication, but I won’t be putting my best work in print.
Fear forces me to ask for help.
Julia Cameron talks about fear in her book The Artist’s Way:
Finding it hard to begin a project [or send a project] does not mean you will not be able to do it. It means you will need help—from your higher power, from supportive friends, and from yourself.
No good writing is ever done alone. Yet, many writers find it difficult to admit they need help. I’m not one of them, but I still break out in a sweat every time I sit down with my writing critique group, with whom I’ve been meeting for a while. I know they aren’t going to laugh at me or roll their eyes or quietly vote me out, but I worry they’ll see through me if I don’t at least feign confidence. Julia Cameron might say, Nonsense. All of us Creatives need help, and we’re better off when we accept that truth.
I didn’t have time to workshop these 20 pages like I wanted, but I did ask for help—for moral support. And, a good writing friend gave me exactly what I needed. “This isn’t a finished manuscript meeting,” she reminded me. “It’s a series of workshops.” My pages aren’t supposed to be near-perfect.
While her words didn’t necessarily lower my fright level, it did give me courage to hit Send when the time came.
My ‘fear’ is my substance, and probably the best part of me. ~ Franz Kafka
Often, I think of fear as all-consuming or this thing to be conquered, but I can choose to use it to my advantage, to keep me in check, to push me to do better. As a writer, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
What’s your perspective on fear?
Great post. I fear before I start a story, while I’m writing it, and after I’ve finished it. Now that I’m on the second draft, I already dread sending it to my beta readers, but I’m willing to take some constructive criticism that can make the story better.
Willingness is the key, Nick! Good luck with this second draft.
I think fear is also a creative signal — it tells you when something matters deeply to you. Sometimes, we become intimidated into hiding those things, first when we’re kids, but it continues until we’re older: cool kids don’t keep their teddy bears around, cool teens don’t like that pre-teen heartthrob, cool college students appreciate literature.
So we learn to hide the things we really love, to protect it from possible disapproval.
And when we have to open a vein and be creative, the best way to find what really matters, what can be wonderful, is to follow your fears, especially your fears of embarrassment.
Camille,
I really identified with what you wrote, especially , “So we learn to hide the things we really love, to protect it from possible disapproval.”
I’ve been writing short stories for years, but it is only in the last few months I’ve started sharing them with people, and submitting them for publication. Fear of rejection and fear of disapproval both have me in their thrall.
When I look back, I see that fear has kept me from doing many things that I realize I probably would have enjoyed, or at least learned from. And at this point, I know I should no longer waste the opportunities I have. And I’ve also found that enough people like what I write or the way I write that I should continue writing and sharing it and let my fear be a spur to improving it, rather than a stumbling block.
Yehudit,
Rejection is never easy, not for the beginner writer or the seasoned author. And, it’s inevitable in this line of work 🙂 You bring up a good point, too, to focus on those good bits of feedback from our peers, so that we can view fear in a positive way instead of in a paralyzing fashion.
Great post, Christi. Fear motivates me to strive harder, do my best. It helps to share my work with my writing group.. I no longer feel I have to write perfectly, just authentically and seriously. I have much fear about sharing the work I most love. Rejection is painful. So is embarrassment. But when I overcome my fears, I grow as a writer, and get closer to my goals.
I love that idea, that fear signals “when something matters deeply to you.” That’s a great way to see it in a positive light. Thanks for your comment.
Christie, I am grateful for your post today as it is a great reminder that we shouldn’t fear the fear, but see it as a way to keep our writing sincere. Fearing that our stories aren’t good enough helps push us to reach for better, to continue to learn our craft, and also to read widely across genres and types of literature. Thanks for your insights!
Glad the post was helpful, Betty!
These are timely words today, to help push me into hitting that send button. Thank you. Christi good luck with going to the writer’s retreat.
Thanks, Christine! Good luck with the work you’re sending out as well 🙂
I feel afraid whenever someone else is going to read my work. Before I start, after I finish, I feel afraid I will never finish. I am afraid it is not good enough, it will never be good enough. I feel afraid of receiving rejections one after the other. I hide it and keep pushing myself, and I am relieved to know I am not the only one who feels that way!
Oh, definitely, you’re not alone! Writing is a solitary act, but we need connection with other writers in order to grow–or, on some days, just to move forward.
Wonderful post. Great quote from Julie Cameron. I remember when I was first getting cast in big roles in the theater and I had a terrible attack of stage fright. A seasoned actor told me I should use the fear in my role. “It’s when you lose that fear that you lose your edge,” he said. “You start phoning it in.” The same is true of youru writing. If you’re not taking risks, you’re just phoning it in and readers can tell.
Great insight, Anne. Love that, “phoning it in.” Thanks so much for your comment.
Wonderful post, Christie. I’m never afraid to start a new writing project (although maybe a little fear there would be helpful, too, since I start so many ;). I do think I have held back from taking risks in my writing — most likely out of fear. And I also think I have some fear of success. I never understood that concept until recently, but I can see where success brings with it its own set of questions, risks and insecurities. I’ll keep your words in mind as I keep trying.
Isn’t that crazy that we should fear success? But, it’s true!
I love the image you painted of those precious learning moments with your dad! And I agree that fear can be a powerful and positive tool sometimes. There’s nothing scarier than putting our work out there … At any stage!
Thanks Melissa. What’s funny is that I bet my dad has no idea how much that moment stuck with me. I think of that with my own kids, those tiny lessons that seem so inconsequential at first.
And, yeah, I don’t think it matters how seasoned we are in the seconds before we start a new piece of writing or send it out into the world. Ann Patchett talks about that recurrence of self-doubt in her book on writing, The Getaway Car. Have you read it? Short, sweet, spot on.
Terrific post, Christi. Fear, when channeled into action, reevaluation and discipline, can become a writer’s true friend and teacher.
Thanks Beth, what a great way to put it!
While I was reading this all I could think of was “Thank God I am not the only one”
I have been writing my first draft of my very first writing piece and with a lot of courage have submitted for some critical inputs. The wait for a response is killing me.
Oh yes, you’re not alone. And the inevitable wait 🙂 The best way to work through that anxiety is to get busy with another writing project! Good luck, Puja!
What a great post — and it’s reaffirmation for me….after years of writing in and submitting from a vacumm, I just last year pushed past my fear and started really reaching out to other writers and beta readers while working on manuscripts. It was really hard at first but it’s gotten easier and easier and I’ve been very happy with the results.
Thanks Julia. That’s so cool. I love your reminder, too, that the more we face certain fears, the easier it becomes to move past them.
If I’m not afraid, I’m not trying hard enough. It means I’m sticking with the safe things I already have mastered. But rather than ignore the fear, I thank it. There maybe one more double check I need to do if there is time. If there isn’t enough time, then whatever I put out in the Universe gets to sail down the bowling lane of life by itself without regret. Once I release that “ball,” it’s literally and figuratively out of my hands. My energies are better spent on the next ball in the queue.
Good luck with the retreat.