Last week I wrote about the importance of showing up, whether that means showing up at your writing desk or in-person at a workshop, conference, or book festival. In retrospect, I fear I may have sounded a bit glib.
As I’ve developed my blog over the past several years, a few recurring themes have emerged. Authenticity and being true to oneself is a subject I return to again and again. Sharing the occasional struggle or setback is another. Social media is rife with “content creators” publishing pretend pranks, rehearsed ad libs, and heavily edited – and ultimately fake – lives. You don’t need more bullshit from me.
I want to speak with confidence, share information intelligently, and celebrate my successes, without ever forgetting there’s a man behind the curtain putting on a face. When it came to sharing my writing journey, I promised I wouldn’t pretend. I would talk about my wins and what I learned, but also admit what I didn’t know or struggled with, and confess when I blew it. So in the interest of full disclosure:
Showing up is simple, but it is not always easy.
Creative people, including writers – especially writers, in my experience – have anxiety around their work. We put not only our time but pieces of ourselves into our stories and when one is judged, the other feels it. Many of us are naturally introverted, so approaching people can be difficult. Put those together and we can become paralyzed.
Yes, I showed up last year, and that was simple, but not easy for me. Let’s take a look at what was going on in my head:
I hadn’t published enough. I hadn’t finished my novel-in-progress, which I started after I hit a roadblock on the last project and by the way, I was about to hit a roadblock in the current WIP, which would push the finishing line out a few months at least. People like doers, not talkers. I wasn’t far enough along on my career. I’m a very late starter and should be on Act 3 or 4 of my writing career by now, not trying to get Act 1 together. I’m sure everyone else already has plenty of writer friends and colleagues, critique groups, and networking opportunities, so they wouldn’t have interest or room for one more. And what did I have to offer anyway?
It gets worse, believe me. But I knew that if I were to accomplish anything, if I were to create the writing life I believed in, something had to change.
“Fear is the mind-killer.” Dune, Frank Herbert
Step 1 is to silence these critical voices. Some people use the power of positive thinking. Some can bully their voices into submission. I let them run wild until they tucker themselves out, then make plans while they have a little nap.
During one of those quiet moments, I started with something I thought would be easy. I asked friends who write to hang out and write. Other than asking my drinking friends if they’d like to get together for a drink, I can’t think of an invitation with lower stakes. Low risk of rejection, low level of commitment, almost no fallout if the plan doesn’t come together.
I had some anxiety about Jane Friedman’s Business of Writing workshop. I’m a sturdy wallflower but ironically do better in large groups where I can fade into the background and enjoy a good, old-fashioned watching. With limited seats (12, I believe), there would be very little opportunity to hide in the back row. I might have to actually talk to someone. But I remembered I had done worse for my job and for something not remotely meaningful. If I could gladhand a horde of DC attorneys and federal government bigwigs at my company’s annual conference, I could handle a few writers around a circle of foldout tables in a barn.
When the opportunity came to ask some of those writers if they’d like to keep in touch, I still had to overcome that fear – see above – but importantly, I had already done two new things, so the third was not as scary. In fact, the point of doing the first two things was to create an environment where this opportunity might arise. Not taking action here would have undercut what I was trying to accomplish. Even then, I came very close to not pulling out that yellow note pad.
As I debated, I eventually asked myself what was the worst that could happen? They weren’t going to laugh at me or chase me to my car. Even if only one or two people had signed up, I would have called that success. Honestly, that would have been a massive win for me. If no one had been interested, I would have gone home, let the voices have their say, and added to cart until I felt better. Then I would have regrouped and started looking for the next opportunity.
All that to say, I do encourage you to show up, wherever you need to. If – like me – you find this difficult, look for ways to make it easier on yourself. Start small, with people you know. Look for places where you might meet other writers who need what you’re looking for. Ask questions: Where did you meet ______ and How did you ______? Humans love sharing their success stories and you should definitely steal their ideas.
If you hit some roadblocks, take some time to get over yourself and try again. To paraphrase, if someone doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, shake the dust off your feet and move on.
Every writer you love – from self-published to celebrity – has had this challenge, but somewhere along the way, they decided that their fear of not taking the next step was greater than their fear of taking it. If it’s hard for you, I totally get it.
But if a neurotic dork like me can do it, you can too.
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