“Your current safe boundaries were once unknown frontiers.” ~ Anonymous
As time passes, and the so long awaited day of publication gets closer, I have to admit that I am scared to death; I’m equally thrilled, mind you, but terrified nonetheless. What am I worried about? In all truth, I don’t even know…a bit of everything, I suppose. I worry that my cozy, routine-driven life will change, my kids will be upset if I have to travel much, and, to some extent, I guess a part of me is a bit insecure of the outcome.
I don’t think I have ever thought much about all this, but I did yesterday, as I tried to weigh my pros and cons of attending a huge book event in New York City in May. Suddenly, the thought of venturing out of NC alone felt overwhelming, and I had to smile at the feeling. Twenty years ago I took an enormous dive into the unknown when I moved here from Europe alone; it was quite challenging at first, but somehow, driven by the enthusiasm of youth, I lived through the initial obstacles. Over the years, all that was new and scary gradually leveled, and I am now completely adjusted and comfortable here.
Will the same happen next year, as a new chapter of my life – one I have dreamt of since childhood – finally starts? I know that time and experience will work wonders. Right now everything in front of me is so very new that I can’t help being a little apprehensive. Things could progress wonderfully or they could fail miserably, but if I don’t charge forward with a positive attitude I will never truly know, and I would automatically forfeit everything I have worked for. If I look back at the initial part of this journey, I can appreciate that I was equally antsy back then; I had no idea how to navigate the channels of the publishing world, I had no clue how to find an editor, an agent, a publisher, but in time all the puzzle pieces fell into place. Now that the picture has finally emerged and it is almost time to officially show it to the world, I find that I have cold feet…I hope that, as it happened in the beginning, destiny will give me a gift of warm socks.
So, thank you for listening today. Ambrose Redmoon once wrote that courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear. In my heart of hearts I know that to be true. Now I can only hope that my shaking brain cells will come to agree.