You Have Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself (and Failure)

I have a friend in Italy who – because she cares – enjoys pointing out my failings. Which is to say, the reasons I’m in my mid-40s and I have nothing. Which is to say, no money, no wife, no children, no job and no car. Whilst she points out my failings – to keep me from becoming depressed – she tends to drop into the conversation every now and then my wonderful qualities. A couple of weeks ago we had this conversation and amongst the wonderful qualities she listed was my courage. She insisted that I was very courageous.

 

I couldn’t find a picture of me being courageous, so here is a picture of someone else being courageous instead.

 

Lots of people who have lives which might be described as ordinary – with partners and children and cars and commutes and two or three holidays a year – think I’m courageous precisely because I don’t have those things, because I apparently eschew them in the seemingly never-ending quest to become a hugely successful author, or a moderately successful author, or whatever.

 

But there is a very thin line between courage and idiocy.

 

Look – here I am dressed as a clown.

 

Clown? Or hero? Clown. Definitely clown.

 

In truth, I do agree that I have done some courageous things in my time.

 

Here are some of the courageous things that I think I have done.

 

1. Going to live in Italy in 2000 without a home to inhabit or a job to do or any idea how to speak the language.

 

2. Going on television with a paper bag on my head and being interviewed about being physically deformed by Penny Smith and others.

 

3. Attempting to go around the world with the intention of visiting 80 festivals with only £400 to my name.

 

Here I am on GMTV. Courageous, idiotic or a delicious cocktail of the two?

 

Often it is the outcome of the venture which has people decide whether it was a courageous or an idiotic thing to do.

 

For example, going to Italy turned out to be a courageous thing because I found a job and somewhere to live, I learned the language and found a girlfriend. (These things are generally thought to be the trappings of success.)

 

Going on TV in a paper bag could probably be defined as a courageous thing, as it came on the back of getting a rather brilliant book published, but it might also be described as an idiotic thing as the book didn’t sell many copies and so what was the point? Eh? Eh?

 

Setting off to visit 80 festivals in five continents with £400, however, is difficult to view as anything other than idiotic as I only managed to visit four festivals and ended up in lots of debt and without a job or anywhere to live and with no other option than to go and live in a field in France for 18 months. (Some people think that was courageous too.)

 

In the end, like everything else in this crazy old world, it’s all a matter of perspective.

 

I mention all this because what I’m about to do now feels to me like the most courageous thing I’ve ever done.

 

What I’m about to do is self-publish a novel., in eBook form.

 

That might not sound so courageous to you. After all, somewhere between 10,000 and 12,000 ebooks are self-published every single day (made-up figure). It can’t be that courageous if so many people are doing it.

 

Well, maybe you’re right.

 

The reason it feels so courageous to me, however, is because of what it represents.

 

This novel, for me, is the Alamo.

 

This is not the Alamo, I know. This is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid seconds before they are shot and killed. Maybe this is more what it feels like. I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I need to find out a little more about the Alamo. But I really don’t have the time.

 

I’m not saying I’ll give up writing if this novel doesn’t bring me considerable success. I won’t. For the simple reason that I can’t. But I might try to. What I am saying is that my attitude towards writing, and my attitude towards life, will change. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how, but I know the disappointment will be transformative. To be honest, I’m halfway there already, in preparation. Although that’s not to say I’m not optimistic. I kind of am.

 

We’ll see. Time will tell. Keep hope alive.

 

I’m in the East Midlands at the moment, looking after my mum, who’s just had most of her intestines removed. I’ll stay here as long as she needs me and in my spare moments I will attempt – once it’s live – to market the book, attempt to get myself noticed and read, attempt to convince people that what I’ve written is worth their time and money. And then, if that doesn’t work, fuck it. I’ll drop off the internet for a few years and milk bees in Italy. At least this time – at the very least – I won’t have killed any more trees.