I just finished handspinning a yarn. Yay!
It’s gorgeous. And even though I had no reason to think it would turn out otherwise (the color scheme is great but far from daring) I still had a little crisis of confidence.
Sometimes I only notice I’ve had the crisis as the beautiful relief hits–when I’m certain it’s going to be good. The mounting peal of “is this right is this right” gets cut off and instead there’s clear air to breathe.
I think this is a universal principle, at least of creating.
But creating is everything, from a project at work, to a reorganization of the kitchen, to daydreaming the next fandom post you’re going to make.
Why do we battle fear?
Because making something new is so important.
With a yarn, it’s easy–if I keep going, I know I’ll see if it works. Or I’ll test it, realize it doesn’t, and stop until I work out a solution.
With something bigger, like a novel, you may hit that ringing sound of CRISIS several times. Where in the process can be personal, but some popular ones are: in the middle of the novel’s drafting process, when setting out to revise, and when sending queries to agents.
Those are the moments where you think “I am actually doing this” and the meaning behind that act becomes clear.
You can’t keep that suspenseful doubt from happening–you can, however, talk to it.
“No, these colors go together. I know that once things fluff up after I’ve set them it looks more finished. This plan makes sense.”
Next post (Wednesday) will be on deconstructing when you’ve making something mean too much, and the fear becomes paralyzing! Because I’ve been working through that recently, too.