Working Through the Fear and Doubt

It’s been a while. A struggle.

But, there’s been a breakthrough.

I’m not sure what happened—

For so long I’ve felt like I was being dragged around by my hair, going from one thing to another without agency, like a monkey on my back. It wasn’t one thing but a million unnamed pressures. A sense of why bother. Fear and self-doubt.

I didn’t know where to start.

I cleared off my desk, I cleared out my head. I sorted through scraps of paper and opened a file on my computer meant to organize my thoughts. I started with making lists.

In January I ordered a used copy of Art & Fear by co-authors David Bayles and Ted Orland. I once had this book but must have given it away or left it behind somewhere. I was reminded of it the end of 2025 and thought: the title alone is worth reading over and over. The fear doesn’t keep me away, I keep reaching, but the state of my soul is brittle. I needed to get beyond a certain paralysis.

The result of reading this small book turned into a Substack series you can access for free, for now. In a series of 7 articles I’ve pulled quotes out of the book and underlined (so to speak) some maxims for the creator/writer/aspiring artist.

I was reminded that fear is basically the fabric of my life. I’ve not done anything without fear and apprehension. I remember a backroad in the Highlands of Scotland after being on the road for 4 days and thinking at any minute I would just quit my bike tour, End to End from the top of the UK to Land’s End in Cornwall. It had been foolish to even attempt going on—when suddenly the scent of pine filled my head, the road was a black ribbon before me, things were tough but do-able, for one minute I’d been elsewhere, transported to a mental state where I forgot and now was conscious of who I was/where I was. I was at peace.

I’d forgotten to be scared.

I was simply doing what my body and heart and soul taught me to do. Exist.

No existential thoughts about careening into a ditch, getting lost (maybe not so existential), my physical limitations, the audacity of what I’d set out to do. We feel this when we fall in love, right before sleep, after a sublime meal. A sense of well-being.

So I made a list with the words at the top: Getting Work Done, and laid out a daily goal.

Monday: blogs, Substack, .com
Tuesday: stories, revisions
Wednesday: collection
Thursday: business, proposals, workshops, pitches, phone calls
Friday: submissions

I didn’t have to browbeat myself or become so overwhelmed with all the different tasks, but could devote a time/space for each and slowly, inch by inch, row by row, grow my writing garden. I’ll complete far more than scatter-shot attempts. Despair. Hopelessness.

I’m already making progress on a new collection, new stories, looking over a folder of things that need to be revised. The list draws me back to what is at hand. I don’t have to do it all and all at once, but each day I awake with a bit of a plan. Do-able bite size pieces. Much like what I teach in my Flash Memoir Workshop.

Here is a link to my Substack featuring this new series based upon Art & Fear and a link to my upcoming workshop taking place in Kalamazoo the first Tuesday in May. Check them out.