Nike had it figured out

Just do it. So simple, so clean, and so true. I have been writing for a year now, but I have been thinking about writing for about seven years. To put it another way, I have spent six years daydreaming about fictional characters, gathering anecdotes, noticing character traits, admiring writers whose books I devoured. The harsh reality is that I spent six years procrastinating. At the core of my delays were some basic nuggets of truth. In no particular order:

• I’m scared I won’t be any good.
• I’m scared my writing will be too personal so that strangers (or worse, acquaintances!) will see into my soul.
• I’m not confident in my abilities to craft a worthy plot with twists and turns and to create deep characters that my reader will fall in love with.
• I’m uncomfortable with the size of my big dreams. Who do I think I am wanting to be a published, successful author?
• I’m worried what people will think of me when I tell them that I am writing now, as opposed to continuing my engineering career. Aren’t people supposed to be good at either numbers or words, not both?

In short, my procrastination was nothing but doubt and fear. And I listened to those forces instead of gathering the strength to overcome them. I believed them.

The worst part of my six futile years is that watched my friend follow her passion and become a bona fide artist. She is a fine art painter, and she creates art that moves people, that connoisseurs collect and covet. And she did it one day at a time with a determination and courage that I was sure was otherworldly. Now I realize that she just had the chutzpah to Just Do It. She was brave, and she carried on when her doubt and fear were speaking to her.

I watched it all from arm’s length. I cheered her on, and I rooted for her, I even consoled her when things were dark. The point of telling you about my amazing friend is to show this – while I watched her, I never once considered that I could do it too. I didn’t translate what I was seeing in real time with the possibility for myself. I saw her secrets to success (aka hard work, no excuses, relentless forward progress) and thought that must be nice, but it won’t work for me. I don’t have her talent. I don’t have her skill. I don’t have her passion. She’s got something special, I don’t.

I recently decided to leave the comparison to her out of this, since I will never be her and she will never be me. It’s apples and oranges, I told myself. And thank God for that, our differences are what is beautiful in this world. There is room enough in this world, in our friendship even, for two creatives pursuing their dreams.

Once I realized that comparison is not serving me, I decided to get out of my own way. One day, with shaking hands and a devil may care attitude, I enrolled in a writing course online. It promised things that I desperately needed: accountability, teaching, and most of all a community. And you know what, I wrote a book in that course. I even shared my newfound hobby with people who I was just sure would judge me or doubt my abilities, conquering a fear in that act alone. I wrote on days when I didn’t have time, didn’t feel like it, had nothing to say. I did my homework even when I wasn’t sure it applied to me or wasn’t interested. I did my homework when I needed to hear every word of it, and when it felt like this was a personalized lesson for just me. I did scary things along the way. I subjected my work to critiques from strangers, I sent my book to an editor for review, I solicited Beta Readers specifically to give me brutal feedback. And guess what, it was scary as hell. But I did it anyway. I Nike’d it. I Just Did It! And I’m going to keep doing it, because it feeds me in a way that nothing else does.