What would you do if you weren’t afraid?
What challenge would you face?
What skill would you learn?
What unknown would you step into?
In the spring of 2019, I stared head on at these questions—and then I looked away. In April of that year, I had begun reading The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. Working through fear and pursuing dreams without hesitation is a big part of The Artist’s Way. Recognizing that doing so would be necessary to my creative recovery made me so uncomfortable.
For over a year I’d been stuck in a creative break that had me questioning not only who I was as a writer, but deeper parts of me as well. I didn’t feel like myself. I was afraid, angry, and resentful of those I felt had devalued my self-worth.
Yet every time Cameron asked What would you do if you weren’t afraid? my brain would respond, I’d write fiction. Going back to childhood, writing fiction scared me. The idea of taking a story that lives inside of you and putting it out into the world made me feel vulnerable. To be honest, it still does.
But what I discovered over the course of this year and the last is that the fear of vulnerability is a lousy reason not to do something God created you to do. I also learned that creativity is not something anyone can take from you. Your story is yours and nobody can control that.
I’m proud to announce that today, December 1, I’ve published my first fiction novel. The story of The Lost Library was written over the course of six months. The idea had bounced around my head for over a year, and I began to put words to page on April 1, two weeks after my family began quarantine in response to the Covid-19 pandemic. It was written without access to coffee shops, co-working spaces, and outside childcare. While 2020 lacked many of the elements I thought I would need to be successful in this project, I overlooked my most important asset: that I am rich in relationships. Like many things in life, self-publishing is not a solo venture.
I had a multitude of friends who asked about my progress, were sounding boards to my ideas, and joined my volunteer editorial team. A handful were kind enough to cry in their coffee as I described the plot and my reason for wanting to write the book. One friend sent cake. If that’s not motivation, I don’t know what is.
Tim didn’t complain on the mornings when I crawled out of our bed a few hours early, took over his desk on Saturdays, and rented an Airbnb for two nights of uninterrupted writing. On the contrary, he was with me every step of the way. Tim is my biggest fan and I can’t imagine being able to complete The Lost Library while quarantined with a three-year-old child if not for his support.
In completing this project, I’ve found a version of myself I didn’t know before 2019. In chasing the thing I feared most, I’ve discovered even the biggest monsters are conquerable. Life goes on. Our stories—real and otherwise—are ours to tell.
I hope you enjoy The Lost Library as much as I reveled in writing it. It was a joy I can’t describe.
For now, I’ll leave you with this…
What would you do if you weren’t afraid?
What challenge would you face?
What skill would you learn?
What unknown would you step into?