I wanted to have some gorgeous blog magic for you this week, but life didn't play along. I spent the weekend out in the country without internet access. It's late Monday night and I'm thoroughly discombobulated.
Much has been rumbling around in my head the last month related to writing and the pursuit of publication -- questions, doubts, and floundering. I've written many partial blog posts, but I'm still processing, not sure how to say it all or even if I want to say it all.
In the end it is this: I have been paralyzed with fear.
It's something I should not perhaps admit. I could put on a jolly face and say this thing of following dreams is all yellow brick roads, snow globes, and hot air balloon rides. But I don't believe in donning fake bravado like a mask. And I don't believe it makes me less of a person, or worse of an artist for that matter, to have moments of weakness.
I could explain the reasons for my fears -- most ridiculous and irrational, some perfectly reasonable. But the reasons don't matter, because I have come to the point of choice. Do I choose to keep drowning here? Or do I swim for shore?
On Friday night, I saw this lovely journal in Book People. It had the word Fearless printed in gold letters along with a fierce, tribal, floral vintage collage of a woman and it instantly touched a chord. I wanted to buy it (and still should) just to track my queries in, just to defiantly claim that fearless spirit for my own.
I may not ever be fearless, but I've decided not to let fear stop me. It's time to carry on.