It’s time to face my fears. There’s something about this time of year that inspires me to confront them—those monsters that are nipping at my ankles and threatening to tear apart my creative work.
When I think of the traditional fears that haunt and beleaguer writers, a few boogeymen jump to mind:
Fear of rejection. Fear of deadlines. Fear of the blank page.
Though formidable, for me these phenomena have lost their boo—not because I have extraordinary courage, but because I’ve had time to study them more closely.
At this point, after submitting my work and searching for agents for the last two decades, rejection is an old (annoying) acquaintance. It used to derail me, but now I find I’m inoculated to the word “no.” Rejection is unpleasant, but it can’t paralyze me anymore. After facing dozens and dozens of deadlines, I’ve learned that they’re tools for making progress. As I’ve explored here, even the ultimate deadline, death, can drive us to finish what we’ve started and meet our goals. As for the blank page, well, that’s where all my ideas are born. Anything can happen on a blank page, so now when I stare at a fresh sheet of paper I just feel excited.
Even though I’ve faced some fears, there are still a few things that scare me. It’s time to get out the flashlight and have a look at what’s lurking beneath the bed.
Fear of The Knock at the Door
Time is the most contested of my resources. In this era of my life, interruptions, even emergencies, are a constant reality. If I want to produce anything, creative time has to be prioritized, pried out, and protected with ferocity. When I’m chasing down an elusive idea or image, any interruption, even a friendly one, can derail this somewhat fragile process. So, when I’m in my studio enjoying one of those rare hours that I’ve set aside for creative work, I find myself bracing for the knock at the door.
Fear of Godzilla’s little brother
I bet you know him, that kid on the playground that came along and kicked your tower down before you’d even finished building it. Writers are prone to this little monster, too. Sharing work before it’s ready is dangerous business. Feedback, if carefully crafted and delivered, is essential for writers. However, thoughtful critique is a very different creature from carelessly formed criticism. Godzilla’s little brother has no interest in helping you make your writing better, he just wants to topple your work mid-progress, flog your ideas before they’ve fully taken shape, and tear your project apart without taking any time to understand it.
Fear of Creativity Vampires
These folk can be hard to spot sometimes; they are very good with disguises. They might take the form of a family member, a friend, a coworker. But, there is a foolproof way to know if you have one in your life—after you spend time with a creativity vampire, you feel depleted and devoid of ideas. Your time, your energy, are spent fixing their problems, jumping to their aid, maybe even propping up their fragile egos. This time and energy (which could have been channeled into your creative work) flows in one direction only—straight to the vampire. If you need help or encouragement, you won’t get it from one of them.
Fear of The Poacher
Finding inspiration in another writer’s work is natural. Imitation can be a wonderful learning tool, but on occasion, I’ve encountered a person who takes it a step too far. This person is The Poacher—a person who lets someone else do the heavy lifting of creation and then reaps some of the rewards. They recognize a good idea, steal it, then make a quick replica and pass it off as their own. I identified my first Poacher in eighth grade art class after she ripped off the central governing idea of an image I’d been working on in my sketchbook. Looking at her “version” of my idea, I felt disappointed and deflated. Good ideas require time, energy, and often a unique point of view. Sure, there may be nothing new under the sun, but if you manage to generate something that feels fresh, seeing it immediately duplicated by someone else feels like a sucker punch or a theft.
Why Look for Monsters?
Well, now I can see what I’m fighting. Monsters that lurk in the dark often seem bigger than they really are. Shining a light on them brings clarity and definition. When I look over the list I’ve created, it’s clear that my fears all point back to the same problem—I need stronger boundaries around my creative work. I need to find ways to protect my time. I need to make sure that the people in my inner circle are trustworthy and respectful. Easy to say…much harder to do. Still, it feels better to know than to sit, afraid, in the dark.
Dangers to creative expression hunker in every corner. I might be vulnerable to some that others are not. Have you looked at what lurks in the shadows lately? What haunts you and your creative work?
Noelle Beverly writes poetry and prose, interprets local history at the Lynchburg Museum, and is a member of the BACCA Literary group. Photos by author.
BACCA Literary 