Why it requires courage to write

Why it requires courage to write

This is part of a series on “How to Find the Courage to Share the Stories You Are Longing To Tell.”

Today’s post starts the series with thoughts on “Why It Requires Courage to Write.”

Why it requires courage to write

Special thanks to John Klymshyn for this image

I’ve dreamed of writing for years, since I was a child. And I have. Over the last 9 years I’ve written hundreds of articles, blog posts, and newsletters through my coaching business. Before that, I wrote city plans. Before that, my graduate thesis.

But I’ve always dreamed of writing a proper something — a larger writing project with a definitive end, like a book or a screenplay.

Somehow, I never seemed to find the time to write until recently — just in the last year or so. And now I’m writing on a daily basis, soon to finish my first feature length screenplay.

What I didn’t understand, until now, was that my lack of writing WAS NOT tied to all the things I believed about what it would take for me to write, like that I needed more time, better ideas, sudden divine inspiration, the proper writing space, a better computer, or any of the other things I was telling myself.

Instead, I discovered that what was going on at a deeper level was that I was afraid. I was afraid to write.

And this is what I’ve seen with many people who say they want to write but aren’t doing it.

Just like me, they are afraid.

Common fears

If you have fear coming up around writing, you might be experiencing some of these common concerns I hear from writers:

  • You’re afraid the writing you’re longing to share isn’t serious, artistic, engaging, funny, clever, dramatic, or fill-in-the-blank enough.
  • You’re afraid that you’ll embarrass yourself if you put your words out there for other people to see.
  • You’re afraid that you won’t be able to do a good enough job telling your stories — you won’t be able to do them justice and you’ll let your ideas down.
  • You’re afraid you won’t be able to come with good ideas.
  • You’re afraid that other people will be hurt if you write things they don’t like. You’re afraid they will see themselves in your stories and be offended.
  • You’re afraid you don’t know how to write well enough, but you don’t give yourself the chance to learn how because you believe that writing requires innate talent and that if you had it, you’d already be writing.
  • You might even be afraid that your best work is already behind you.

What you need to understand is that these fears are ONLY fears. Nothing more, nothing less. They MAY come true, we may fall on our faces and have to pick ourselves up again, just like my son did on his way to school this morning.

You also need to understand that these fears are your ENEMIES. They are the enemies to your dream of writing, and courage is your antidote.

Stay tuned for the next post in this series coming your way tomorrow, “How to Spot the Stealthy Smokescreens that Stop You From Writing.” Watch for it on the blog or subscribe here.

It Takes An Act of Courage to Be Seen

This weekend I was in the thick of two major things that put me in a vulnerable place: Hosting a party and being creative under pressure.

On Saturday, I was trying to make a cake and a party for my son that he would love and one of my friends said, “This is kind of an over-the-top birthday for a three year old, isn’t it?” and I said, “Is it?” because I thought I was doing a great job of having it be low key and fun and cool AND make him an amazing cake he would love.

Then on Sunday, while writing my entry for the third challenge of the Short Screenplay Challenge 2010, I felt like I was trying to corral all these ideas into behaving themselves and into doing what they were supposed to be doing and they were all over the place and at the same time I was trying to meet a deadline AND be creative under pressure AND keep my head at the same time. (Jeez.)

Plus, layered on top of that, I’m in the midst of getting a hold of the slippery direction I’m heading in with my work. It’s changing, evolving, I’m doing it as I go along, but people (Read: naysayers) keep implying that I’m not doing it enough or fast enough or that I’m trying too hard to get it right before I proceed. 

All these things add to the quality of self-consciousness and second-guessing coming up that makes me feel like my slip is really showing. (I hate that.)

But right in the thick of all of this, I had the pleasure of watching Brené Brown’s brilliant TED talk on vulnerability. (If you haven’t seen it, go watch it right now, you’ll be glad you did.)

Since then, I’ve been immersed in thinking over the ways in which I hold myself back from truly connecting, being wildly, deeply creative and joyful, and just plain-old enjoying my life more and how it takes an act of courage to be seen.

Truly seen by yourself, your spouse, your children, your family, your audience.

The thing is, I want to have a LOT more fun. I’ve hacked my life in key ways over the last several years. I know how to trust my intuition, how to work with my sensitive nature rather than against it, how to Get Stuff Done and do it well and effectively, how to make a great living doing work I truly enjoy, how to run a business, and how to work from home and raise a small child (still working on that one).

And there is so much more for me to work on. (I’m an Enneagram Four; there’s ALWAYS more.)

But at the end of the day, what is the point if I’m not enjoying it?

Brené Brown tells us that being vulnerable is the key to making REAL connections, feeling more creative, and having more joy in our lives.

How can we be more real, more vulnerable, and more seen?

I’m trying.

 

Jenna Avery
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