A different kind of fear has hit me, one I didn’t quite anticipate in the way it has, today.
I thought I was ready for the fear of rejection. An anonymous form letter from a faceless person in an office miles and miles away hasn’t worried me in the least. I’ve psychologically prepared myself (at least I think I have) for one of those, many of those, and am ready to check the ‘not interested’ box off on my list of People To Send Things To and move on to the next name. In a perverse way, I am almost looking forward to collecting rejection letters, adding them to a pile like medals and ribbons.
The Script’s most recent revision was finished yesterday. It is ready to send out to my Trusted Friends to have a look at and let me know what they think. I value their opinions – they are all well read, literate and good people with backgrounds in English, writing, and theater – and that is why I asked them to honor me with the favor of reading it.
One copy has gone out electronically. The plan is for two hard copies to go into the mail tomorrow.
And I am afraid.
The little voice in the back of my head that says ‘you can’t, you aren’t good enough’ has awoken again from his most recent slumber. I have told the Trusted Friends that I want honest criticism so I can fix what must be fixed, but I will say that I am not quite looking forward to it. Already, the need to Defend My Work is manifesting, even without anyone having seen (this draft) but myself. The questions ‘Will they ‘get’ it?’ and ‘Will they understand’ are circulating through my skull and creating a whirlpool of despair that threatens to overwhelm me.
Another voice sounding much like the Drill Instructor from ‘Full Metal Jacket’ is awake now as well, and that voice is telling me to pull up my Big Boy Pants and get on with it already. This is a big step of growing and progressing as a writer. Nothing bad will happen, I must tell myself. No one is going to die. They can’t take away my birthday. It will be all right.
So, I breathe deep and heed the latter voice, preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. If I can get over this I can get over anything.
But still, I am afraid.
PS – up to 13 followers, which 12 more than I had hoped for when I started. Thank you!