Doing What You're Most Scared Of
What’s the point of doing what you’re most scared of? Well, I’ve tested this twice during the past six months as my book took flight.
Each time, I learned something new about myself. I bolstered my courage muscles. I made myself vulnerable in a new way. Scary at the time, worth it looking back.
My first big risk was taking flying lessons. I started in September, at a nearby airport, because I wanted to know more about what my mom, a pilot in World War II, experienced in the pilot’s seat. I wanted a tangible, personal experience of being behind those many dials. My novel’s two main characters are female pilots, so it felt authentic to try flying too.
I’d researched everything I could about flying. Worked with a flight instructor to make sure my scenes were accurate in every detail. But I’d never actually felt what a pilot would feel. What my mom felt every day when she flew those B-29’s.
Totally scary being in that pilot seat as a beginner. My instructor was kind, he handled most of the controls, he said he was honored to teach the daughter of a Women’s Airforce Service Pilot. The preflight check was twenty items, all mind-boggling. I couldn’t find landmarks he knew so well from the air. We wobbled in crosswinds when we landed. But I was exhilarated by the risk I took. I felt completely changed by it.
The next big risk came a month later, when I was planning my in-person launch party at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis. A great party must have music, I knew, so I hired two friends, Emma and Alejandro, to perform before and after the onstage interview. Members of the duo JazzLove, they were both seasoned performers and would provide the perfect ambiance for my celebration.
Many years ago, Emma and I performed together in a band called Keystone. Along with three others, we sang five-part harmonies in a modern Crosby, Stills, and Nash style, all original tunes. We even cut an album. Singing with Keystone was a major key in my successful transition back to life after chemotherapy. I remember the gift of singing together when I had no hair, because music heals on every level.
Another of Keystone’s members, Larry, was planning to attend the launch party. He texted to say he’d finished reading my book, liked it a lot, and wanted to write a song from the novel to perform at the party!
A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue has three main characters; one of them, Red Nelson, is an indie rocker, lead singer of a cult band, beginning her rise to fame. She is also on the run from the law for a murder she didn’t commit. While hiding out, she has only her music to keep her company so she works on a new tune, “Night Flight,” a tribute to her pilot parents.
“Night Flight” is a theme in the story—the flight Red takes in the story’s opening, as she leaves her life and the criminal who is chasing her, is a night flight. The characters all are in the dark, flying towards some dream of family. So Larry’s offer intrigued me. What would it be like to hear a song that only existed as a few fictional stanzas? It felt right that it come alive, though, and if anyone could create “Night Flight” for real, Larry could.
We were driving through some midwestern state when my phone pinged and lyrics and a rough melody appeared in a text. I listened as we drove, liking the song more and more. Different than what I’d imagined, but it made me tear up at the end for what it conveyed about Red’s story.
Then I got the big question: would I considering sitting in on the performance? The band would be Emma, Larry, Alejandro on keyboards, and myself.
My chops as a singer are zip. These are professionals. So of course, I said no. Too big a risk. I could talk about my book onstage, no problem. But stand up and sing in front of a packed Performance Hall? No way.
A few days later, I was rehearsing with them.
We look happy but I was mostly scared.
The night of the launch party, I was even more nervous. JazzLove performed while people enjoyed wine and appetizers. Emma’s great voice is perfect for jazz standards and Alejandro is a genius on keyboard.
When it was time for the program to start, I took my seat onstage with fellow author and interviewer, Kate St Vincent Vogl. Probably I’m the only author at a book launch who has her dogs in her lap for courage! Kate’s questions about writing and publishing were so good; the audience in the packed hall asked great ones too. It almost distracted me from the risk ahead.
Then Kate announced the song. I stepped offstage, handed my dogs to my spouse, and took my place at a different mic. Luckily, Emma carried the vocals and I backed her up on harmonies. Larry played guitar and Alejandro his keyboards. The simple melody embodied Red’s search for family. The style of the song, to me, is not unlike the tunes from the Broadway show, Wicked. Full of grit and longing, by an outcast who wants more from her life.
I made mistakes during those four minutes of ecstasy and terror. Here’s the band after we ended, Emma telling me we did OK.
Why do the thing you’re most scared of? Why take such risks? I stood up in front of nearly 100 people and sang when I hadn’t honed that skill in years. I put myself on the line, in social jeopardy. But it was worth it. It created a reunion of members of our band, reminded me how much I adore singing with them. It made a memory I won’t forget in a long time.
And it was a special part of the evening for everyone who came, I think.
When you take a risk, its magnitude to uplift or slay you is so individual. For others, getting in a plane or singing in front of a crowd is a non-event. For me, it crossed a line into real vulnerability. Yes, I felt plenty of vulnerable moments during the six months of this book launch, as I expanded my naturally introvert self into more and more outreach. But I evaluated each step for how soon and easily I could recover.
When I asked for help, how easily could I rebound from a no?
When I submitted for reviews, would I do OK if they weren’t stellar?
Some things I didn’t try because I knew it was so far outside of my comfort zone, I couldn’t recover fast enough to keep moving with the book launch tasks, which were many.
But here I was, at the end of the journey, doing something I never imagined.
On our drive home, I wrote a pros and cons page in my journal, doing that risk assessment retroactively.
Cons: (1) I’d come from teaching a four-hour workshop so my voice might be shot, (2) we’d only have time for one rehearsal and no warmup, (3) I could very easily make a fool of myself in front of all my students, writing colleagues, and friends.
Pros: (1) I trusted these friends, (2) Emma would create a harmony part for me and I could learn it as we drove, (3) Larry would double me vocally (which didn’t end up happening but the promise kept me happy), (4) I love singing with these guys, and (5) I loved the song.
Not surprisingly, pros won out. I can hear so many of my mistakes in the recording, but it was a blast. I’m proud of myself for taking the risk. It gave me some new confidence and courage. Now Larry wants to write a song for my next novel. I just might say yes.
Your Weekly Writing Exercise
Risk assessment time.
Make a little list (three to many items) of things you’ve put off doing because of fear or not wanting to be foolish. What’s humming in the background of your creative life that you’ve tried to shut away but haven’t entirely succeeded?
Rate each with a risk level: 1 is not much risk, 10 is high risk. This is very individual, so what is risky to you might not be to anyone else, and vice versa. Be honest with yourself. Nobody needs to see this assessment.
Next, take the lowest risk item on your list and place it in the center of a page (easiest to do this with paper and pen). Draw a circle around it and lines radiating off like spokes from a wheel. This is a clustering exercise. On each spoke write one reason you haven’t done this risky thing before. Then draw a bigger circle around all the spokes. Create more spokes from that circle.
Now write small, even tiny, steps you might take if you were to try this risky thing.
Do one of these this week.