Do THE SCARY THING: A case study.

Today, I did THE SCARY THING.

I actually advise doing something scary every day, or at least something that pushes you out of your comfort zone. That can be something as small as driving a new route to work or trying a new cheese, or it can be something as huge as sky diving when you're afraid of heights. Point is, as a writer, artist, and human being, I feel it's important to constantly stay awake and to make new neural connections. The best art comes from a place of discomfort and disequilibrium.

When I say DO THE SCARY THING on Twitter, I sometimes get... pushback. Stories about why someone can't do the scary thing or how doing the scary thing in the past bit them in the butt. It's as if, in suggesting everyone do THE SCARY THING, I am speaking to particular people who do not, in fact, want to do THE SCARY THING, and who seem to think that because I am a traditionally published author, things are easy for me. Therefore, I'd like to share with you the timeline of THE SCARY THING I did today.

It might seem small to you: I rode my horse in a different saddle. But trust me: I was scared. I had that adrenaline dump, when your heart is hammering and your stomach goes cold and your head goes thick and your hands and feet shake. So I thought I would share the timeline of this SCARY THING with you as a case study.

October 21, 2014 - 10am: It's my 37th birthday. I put on my Batman sweatshirt (first pic above), step into my new cowboy boots, and head to the barn, where I put my new Australian saddle on my horse, Polly. My new boot gets stuck in the stirrup, and my leg goes over her back instead of her saddle, and she bucks me off. I land on my back. 

October 21, 2014 - 1pm: I'm in the hospital (second picture), and they've confirmed that my back is indeed broken. I'm given painkillers and am to report to an orthopedist the next day. I have my first real panic attack in the middle of the night, when I have repeated nightmares rehashing the fall and my brain shows me various ways I could've been killed. 

October 22, 2014: I get a back brace. And more painkillers. I can barely move. My family has to wait on me, hand and foot, while I flop around in bed, doped up. My entire body hurts. When my meds run out at night, I have more panic attacks. I start to dread sleeping. I begin to think about selling my horse.

Oct-Nov, 2014: Healing. Lots of crying. I've never been helpless before. I hate the back brace. I continue to dread sleeping--with the added bonus of no more pain meds. I talk to friends about selling my horse and finding a shorter, calmer horse. Some people tell me I should quit riding forever.

November 4, 2014: I send a long, rambling email to the most knowledgable horse person I know, telling her I'm scared of my horse and asking if I should give up riding and sell Polly. Right after I hit SEND, I realize that I am letting fear drive the bus, and I refuse to let fear drive the bus. I send another email that says IGNORE ALL THAT and ask another friend to help me work with Polly until she's safe to ride and I regain my confidence.

December 4, 2014: My back is healed, and my orthopedist gives me the okay to take off my back brace. I am ecstatic. On this day, I get an offer on Wake of Vultures and go to a great lunch with my writer friends. That afternoon, I go to the barn and, with a friend's help, start working with my horse to build trust and desensitize her. 

December 7, 2014: First time back in the saddle after the backbreakening, using my Western saddle. I am terrified, but I do it anyway. I don't stay up there for very long.

December 11, 2014: First trail ride since the backbreakening. Again, TERRIFIED, but I have a great time.

Dec 2014-July 2015: We ride frequently, aside from the month after my gallbladder surgery. Every time I mount, my friend holds my rein so Polly can't buck again.

July 21, 2015: I try my Australian saddle for the first time since the backbreakening. Not for a full ride-- just to put it on, mount up with a friend holding Polly's reins, and get off.

August 17, 2015: First time mounting horse alone in Western saddle (without a friend holding Polly's reins.)

August 24, 2015: First trail ride in the Australian saddle. No problems. We even passed SCARY FOREST COWS. Still, friend held reins while I mounted, just in case.

I realize that if you're not a horse person, you're probably wondering what this timeline has to do with THE SCARY THING in the writing world, or whatever world you're in. So here's a breakdown:

1. SOMETIMES, SH*T HAPPENS. I was doing the thing I loved, and something catastrophic happened. Something that not only destroyed my confidence but that also set me back in my general life, big time. It was an accident.

2. AT FIRST, YOU CURL UP IN PAIN. My initial reaction was fear. I felt traumatized, and I didn't want to confront what had hurt me.

3. DON'T LET FEAR WIN. With some distance, and mainly through reading my own words and feelings, I recognized that I was letting fear take over and that I didn't want to pursue that path.

4. FIND SUPPORT. I asked for help. I realized I couldn't do it alone, and I asked a trusted friend to help me conquer my fear.

5. TAKE SMALL BITES. I didn't immediately try to get back to where I'd been. That first time back in the saddle, I got up, sat there, and got off. I didn't gallop into the sunset. Conquering fear is often easier if you do it in manageable bites.

6. LET YOURSELF FEEL THE FEAR. Every time I did THE SCARY THING, I acknowledged that I was scared and did it anyway. I didn't pretend it was no big deal. I felt the fear.

7. TAKE THE RIGHT RISKS. I paid attention to safety. Every step of the way, I was wearing a helmet, with a trusted friend, and tested the waters before committing.

8. TRUST YOUR GUT. When something didn't feel safe, I backed away. One time in December, I hopped up on her back, and she felt very alert and like she might spook, so I slid right back off. Just then, a cat burst out of the forest, and she did indeed spook. I was really glad I trusted my instincts, that time.

9. BE REALISTIC ABOUT YOUR LIMITS. There's a balance between pushing yourself and knowing when too much is too much. Today, in the saddle that broke my back, I still asked my friend to hold the reins as I mounted. It will probably be a while before I hop up on my own. 

10. LET THAT SUCCESS BREED MORE SUCCESS. When I have a great day riding, it bolsters my confidence and makes me more likely to take more positive risks. Frex, I recently submitted some comics pitches for the first time, which is something I've been scared of doing.

11. KNOW WHEN IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD. Notice how I mentioned several times that the Australian saddle was the one that scared me? That's not because there's anything wrong with it; that's because it's the one I was using when I broke my back. After that, the Western saddle felt "safe", even though... there's really no difference. But I attached fear to one saddle and safety to the other, and I recognized that and went with what made me feel "safe". I also haven't worn that Batman shirt again. And that's okay. Sometimes, small, silly details make a big difference to your confidence.

So here's the thing: Fear is a feeling. Sometimes, it's very much on point, and if you haven't read THE GIFT OF FEAR by Gavin De Becker, please do, because it's an amazing discussion on listening to your gut. But, lots of times, we'll let fear hold us back from growing as a human being. Complacency and comfort feel good, but they're not the well that powers art and positive change. 

Now, I'm definitely not advocating quitting your day job and using *that* fear to move your writing forward, because it's hard to make good art when you're starving to death. I *am* advocating going to a con, taking a class, going to a meet-up, sending a query, or writing a pitch--something that seems scarier than it is. Being rejected is part of the game, but we'll still let it hold us back to save ourselves from the possibility of pain or the hit against our confidence. 

Yes, I'm using WE because I do it, too.

When I tell you to DO THE SCARY THING, know that I'm doing it, too. When I tell you you'll be rejected, I assure that I have been rejected--tons. When I urge you to get back in the saddle, please know that every time I put my boot in that stirrup, I still feel the bone-deep fear, but I do it anyway. Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to ride horses, and I wasn't about to let something as silly as fear stop me.

Don't let it stop you, either.

Take it from me: Life is too short to let fear drive the bus.