Searching for Courage

Several years ago, a friend of mine, a marathon runner, gave me a copy of John "The Penguin" Bingham's book The Courage to Start: A Guide to Running for Your Life. 

Seriously. She wanted me to start running. For fun. With these boobs. 

Delusional, I say, as nicely as possible.

However, since the gift was given with the best intentions, I read it...eventually...reluctantly. Turns out, it's a pretty good read. I enjoyed it from a theoretical, inspirational standpoint - mostly because I knew I had no intention of ever running. Not even for my life. Seriously. If the Zombie Apocalypse happens, I will be one of the first to go because I think I'd rather just go ahead and offer up my sweet meats to the living dead than lace up my shoes and outpace their shuffling with anything remotely resembling a jog. I shall consider this sacrifice of myself my last altruistic gift to my more survivalist and fleet-footed friends to give them more time to get away.

You're welcome.

Note: I won't even hold it against you when you smash my zombie brains in with a baseball bat. Promise. Just...uh...make sure I'm a zombie first and not just really super duper hungover, OK?

Anyway! The premise of the book is, surprise, that the first step is always the hardest. It takes courage to put your shoes on, step outside your front door, where all the neighbors can see...and point...and laugh as you waddle out into the world declaring "Look at me! See what I can do?"

Substitute "runner" for anything else we want to start, do, be (doo bee doo bee doo) and the message is the same: it takes a hell of a lot of courage to take that first step. A LOT of courage!

Courage, of course, has been on my mind a great deal since the start of the year given that it was the word I chose to manifest for 2012. The courage to start, to do, to be, to love, to live has been a mantra of sorts. I do my best to keep the concept at the fore lest I forget and lapse into complacency. It's working thus far.

But I haven't gotten as far as I would have liked as it pertains to writing. I've poked my nose out the front door, sneakers tied tight, taken a whiff of the air, and promptly slammed the door shut in Courage's face.

I've been reading Tangled Lou now for several months and, as she's gotten more courageous herself about describing her writing goals, asking How Do You Do That Thing We Do, I've begun, once again, to compare my writing to hers, to Uncle Typewriter's, and to a whole slew of other people's work and I lacked courage to continue. I felt stuck, blocked, bored with myself. If I'm bored with myself, how can I possibly manage to entertain anyone else? My funny bone's been broken, I think to myself, and if I can't write funny, I don't want to write at all.

But that's an excuse. It's not that I don't want to write. My problem is I think people come here because they want funny and I haven't been delivering. I've been letting everyone down and *gasp* we can't have that, now can we? Because meeting everyone else's expectations is what I'm here for...right? RIGHT?! Heh.

And then, because sometimes we really do get the *THWAP* of the zen stick - especially me - at precisely the moment we need it, I read several blog posts tonight from different sources that spoke to me about courage and my dilemma.

First, Single Dad Laughing wrote How I Lost 25,000 Followers On My Blog. For anyone who blogs and is concerned with statistics and growing blog audience, this is totally worth the read! In the post, Dan talks about his fear of losing precious readers every time he posts something he feels will be controversial or upsetting to his readers. He goes on to talk about how, literally, every time that fear has gripped his heart as he's clicked "Publish", he did lose a few readers...and gained thousands more. Every time he's faced his fear, gathered up his courage, and spoke his mind - no matter the consequence - his post has gone viral.

Then, because this is how the Universe works, I read a re-post by Mlle. Lapin of Neil Gaiman's Tumblr post regarding John Steinbeck's Six Tips on Writing. Namely, I was captivated by this one: Forget your generalized audience. In the first place, the nameless, faceless audience will scare you to death and in the second place, unlike the theater, it doesn't exist. In writing, your audience is one single reader. I have found that sometimes it helps to pick out one person - a real person you know, or an imagined person and write to that one.

Finally, I read Are you Sorry You Asked Yet?: Thanks For Asking, The Third & Final Part by Masked Mom in response to Tangled Lou's inquiry about how we do what we do and I was relieved. Her words echoed what I'd been thinking and feeling. I couldn't answer Lou's question because I don't understand my own process. I just...do what I do.

I can tell you how I began to write. I can tell you, and this ties into the Pet Peevery Lane post from last night and why the need to speak and not being allowed to do so is such a hot spot for me, is that, as the youngest of four in an unhappy home where monsters were very real and the one message I received often and in whispers was "Keep yourself hidden. Don't wake the dragon. Don't make waves," writing was my only outlet, my only voice.

I can tell you why I write now. In essence, I write because I must. Not to write would mean to allow the words to congregate, accumulate, and push against my better judgment - not unlike backed up sewage against a tree-root blocked pipe.

But I cannot tell anyone my process because I don't know or understand my process other than this...

I start at the very beginning. A very good place to start. It usually begins with a title. A spark of imagination. A thought. It begins with courage to speak. And, once the first step is taken, my waddle out into the world shouts, "Look at me! See what I can do?"