Dear scared bit,

I know something is bothering you because I am feeling grumpy and unable to settle to any writing. I’m old enough now to realise that when I feel this way for no apparent reason, there’s Stuff going on underneath. So I thought I’d write you a letter, and then let this percolate a bit, to see if you decide to tell me what’s going on.

So let’s look at what’s going on at the moment. The major edit of doom is almost over. Only tweaks, minor corrections and then it’s time to get back out there again, isn’t it? I guess that’s part of this.

<stony silence>

Okay… well, what else is there? Oh yeah, the Totally Re-designing my Life thing. Yes… that’s quite a big one. I’m scared about that in a very transparent, ‘Holy Crap! Lions!’ kind of way. But this is what really living is about – trying to do something extraordinary. At least I am still striving, still trying to make life what I want it to be. I’m sorry I’m rocking the boat and frightening you too. If I could just switch off any desire to be more than I am now, I’m sure we’d both be a whole lot less scared. But I can’t do that, and even if I could, I wouldn’t. Being a freelancer is scary, but it’s also potentially the best decision I have ever made. Ever.

I’m trying to look at you, but all I see is a great big knot made of thick rope. You’re so tightly bound that that I can’t see the ends, I can’t see where to start unpicking you.

Yes, I am opening us up to a lot of stress. And rejection again, and I know that’s hard. Really. But if I don’t try again, I will have already failed. The book will stay here, in this room, and never be held by someone else, never by placed on a shelf next to other books where it can soak up the delight of having been read by another person. Never be loved by anyone. Can’t we just give it another chance to be that?

Oh! I think I saw an image of someone there, someone short with a magnificently deep frown and pouting lips. Your arms are folded, knees tight together and thunder is behind your eyes. That’s an impressive sulkiness you’re cultivating there.

Still no words? That’s fine. Let’s just sit down over here where it’s sunny and not in Somerset. I know a great place by a lake in a kingdom where it is always sunny. Let’s go there together. Better? That is a pretty dress you’re wearing. No I’m not trying to trick you, I’m just saying.

A thousand diamonds on the water, a hill in the distance, birdsong to sweeten it all. Isn’t the green beautiful? Such majestic trees over there. See the swallows circling over the golden roof of the palace? Oh I like it here. I think you must too, as you’re kicking off your neat black shoes and wriggling your toes in the sunshine. Let’s just sit here a while and not be scared.

You know, it will all be ok. I know grown ups say that all the time, but seeing as I’m just the older bit of you, surely you can trust me? Maybe not. Well, you’re right, I do tell myself a lot of rubbish. Sorry.

I do believe it though. Really I do. I know that this is going to get painful, and more scary but really, it won’t kill us. Okay, that was a bad way to put it. No, don’t cry! I didn’t mean – oh damn.

It makes me feel sick when you cry. It makes me bad-tempered when you are angry. But we have to be brave, you and I. We have to be courageous. This is all part of the story you see. This is the dark, frightening bit where the hero is facing insurmountable odds. Don’t you want to be heroic?

Whoa! Who are you? How’d you get so tall so quickly? That’s a mighty fine sword you have there Sir Knight. Where did the little girl go? Ah well, no matter, I’m sure she’s still here somewhere, in the woods perhaps. Oh it’s dark here now, the forest is closing in on us. Yes, I see the path ahead. I’m afraid. But now I am holding the sword. I see my reflection in the blade, the grey streak in my hair is bright in the moonlight.

I grip the sword tightly in my hand as I look at the path ahead.

I will be brave.

Tagged as: fear, Writing