I believe it’s okay to be flawed. We all possess weaknesses, we forget, we phone it in. So why have I been petrified to write my next substantive post?
I fear failure, of course.
Knowing that everyone else in the world shares this same fear doesn’t relieve the tightness in my chest or the jumpiness in my stomach. It should, but it doesn’t. Neither does knowing that there’s acres of research from Brené Brown and others that says vulnerability strengthens us.
Fear isn’t rational. Fear is primal. It served an important evolutionary purpose, but posting 300 words on a blog no one reads hardly equates to the risk presented by, say, a tiger looking for a snack. In our modern context, fear requires a constant smack-down, an adjustment of perspective.
Writing blog posts differs from writing novels in obvious ways–length and objectives, to name two. When I write a novel, I have months or years to go over the manuscript, to figure out exactly how I want the characters to act and what I want them to say. Numerous iterations and revisions give me permission to experiment, fail, and try again before anyone else sees the work. Launching the book cranks up the anxiety, of course–it’s the equivalent of passing a note to the world saying “Do you like me? Check this box.” For me, posting on my blog is like book launch day, every time I post.
The Rx
The only way to dull the anxiety is through exposure therapy. Post each week, smack down the fear. Get out and play in the dirt. Build up some immunity. Get a booster shot by posting more frequently. The only way to figure out how to be broken in the world is by getting out there and being broken.
There are all kinds of problems with this post. It doesn’t start off with a compelling hook, and the ending doesn’t tie back to the beginning the way I want. It’s broken, like me, like all of us. I could fret about it, tinker with it for weeks, but that won’t build the immunity I need. I can tinker with manuscripts. Blog posts are for getting out there.
Or, as my kids like to say,
