I was chatting with a friend of mine about the creative process and how damn scary it is.
She's experiencing the freak-out phase of development. It's the fear that hits right before you show the world what just came out of your brain.
It's naked and scary and awful and blissful and so many things all at once.
I rarely get so cliché as to mention song lyrics, or quote poetry, but I did mention a phrase to her that has resonated in my mind since I heard it first -
'And when the world finally sees his art, he wishes that he never would have made it...'
Exactly what it feels like to push 'publish' on a blog post. Or to submit drafts to an editor. It's opening your world up to ridicule and inspection. And for me, a 70/30 introvert, this is harrowing.
My next article is about something so terribly personal, that I'm terrified of pulling the trigger. It deserves the highest honor in my emotional task force and I'm so worried that it won't translate. Adversely, I'm apprehensive that it will translate too well and show too much of something that I just can't fully expose.
So, I'm here and there and wanting to show but not tell.
But somewhere in the shadows is a positive email, or a comment, or a nudge from a friend that what I'm doing is right. And moreover, that it means something.
And resilience overrides fear.
(This is really a roundabout way to say thank you. You know who you are. Your words mean...well, everything).