Yesterday, I wrote about time – losing it and making the best use of it. For me, that means paring down my outside interests, simplifying my life, centering my highest priority goals and wishes, and making a commitment to walk the talk. When I was younger, I often asked myself, “If not now, when?” At my current age, the inquiry has evolved: “If not now, you won’t.”

I also mentioned that the task can feel daunting. I have a lot of dreams I’d like to fulfill, and an unknown time in which to make them happen. Committing to a creative process and large ambitions can be scary. Like changing jobs or getting married, big creative dreams are prone to triggering cold feet.

Am I talented enough to write the stories in my head? Some of them will require a lot of research. One or two will be structurally challenging. Will I have the time? I hope I have a good 30+ years in front of me, but I might get only a few. What am I sacrificing to give myself the time to write?

Some days, a life of binge TV and day drinking seems attractive.

Making a big commitment is scary stuff. Naturally, we fear failure. It’s human nature to dread hard work, even when we enjoy the work and desire the outcome.

But commitments are also a source of power. Making a commitment is taking ownership – of yourself, your dreams, and your future. You are deciding today what you will do tomorrow and the day after and in the months and years to come. You are embracing a vital aspect of yourself and promising to bring it forth. You can step to the altar dreading the possibility of divorce or excited about the prospect of spending the rest of your life with your best friend.

This dichotomy is also at work in our creative lives. When writers and artists make a commitment to our work, we are also tapping into a larger creative font. We may feel small compared to who has come before us. Our talents may feel miniscule compared to our vision of what we wish to create. We might feel inadequate to the task. We get cold feet. We wonder if there’s anything new on Netflix.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

When we feel this trepidation, when we hesitate at the point of commitment, we can choose to indulge our fears or we can choose to experience awe. We can accept that we are part of a grand tradition of writing and art. We can tap into the source of creation and become one with it. Instead of feeling small, we can revel in belonging to something bigger than ourselves.

When I review what I want to accomplish over the next few years, it feels like too much to ask. I’m not certain I’m enough. But when I set that aside and focus on what I must do today, I feel that familiar rush. I get to write today. I have ideas to express. I can complete a small goal that brings me closer to fulfilling a larger dream. I brought forth something that didn’t exist a few hours ago. I made magic.

If your creative journey brings you to a point of hesitation, take a few moments to make the choice between fear and awe. Then take a deep breath and say “I do.”