A combination of reading Jules' blog post for the day and facing (by which I mean fleeing from) an unexpected spider in the cooking area has inspired me to consider the issue of facing our fears.

The few blog posts I have achieved so far are mostly about my efforts to try new things.  So far, this has included making an axe (hence my photograph on here, though I blogged about that on the WordCloud instead of on here) and taking up archery.  And as soon as the club stops having WW3 and I can get back to that, I may blog about it again.  (I do have a shiny bow and arrow to play with now, but, sadly, currently nowhere to shoot the thing safely.)

The Festival of Writing at York last year was, for me, an early attempt at facing fears and pushing the boundaries of my life a bit.  I was nervous.  Very nervous.  Anxiety is not an easy thing to combat and the idea of going somewhere I had not been, to meet a whole load of people I did not know and to see if anyone, by any chance, thought I could write, maybe, a little bit... well, it was scary.

Happily, my good friend Liz booked a place, too, but we decided we would only meet up in the evenings, so that we could give ourselves the push to talk to new people.

And it was awesome.

I spent the entire weekend bubbling with excitement and glee, a feeling which buoyed me up over the next few weeks once the festival was over.  I spoke to many new people, people who also loved writing and thought it was an entirely understandable use of your time to make up characters and tell their stories.  This was even better when in the panels for SciFi and Fantasy.  Not only was I surrounded by writers, but by Geek writers.  Could it get any better?  There was even tea at every break, just waiting for us!  Oh, it was glorious.  I would like to just live there.

As far as dipping toes in the waters of new experiences go, it was a good start.

Could I keep going, though?  It wasn't long before York took on the guise of a new safe-place in my head, moving itself from 'new and you coped and loved it' to 'yes, but that was York - other places are still scary'.

The axe making and then archery were good tests, as was challenging myself to take a more active part in the WordCloud (which has been wonderful), including taking the self-edit course with the wonderful Debi Alper.

Even the, though, the very fact I was communicating, in a meaningful way, about my writing, made me wobbly.  I spent some time staring at my laptop screen, deciding every comment I had made was daft and I should just shut up.  I am glad I didn't, as the course was packed full of helpful moments and the people are still great to chat to and discuss writing with.  Meeting them in York this year made it feel even more like a sort of home-coming.

I suppose the reason I have been able to keep going with taking risks in writing (including this blog - which I am having trouble accepting is something actual, living people can read), is that I love writing.  It is vital to me.  Archery is fun, the axe thing was fun, and other things will probably with fun or rewarding in their own ways, when I get around to pushing myself into trying them, but writing is what I am.

Other than being a dragon, but, as I implied yesterday, dragons are wordsmiths, so that isn't really a different thing.

It would seem, then, that the trick is to venture outside of my comfort zone with a focus which pulls me on, rather than having to keep pushing myself forwards.  Yes.  'Push' is perhaps the wrong way to think about this.  After all, I will never be all right with a wide range of things.  I don't care how many times someone tells me that jumping out a plane is an experience everyone should try.  I don't see it happening.  Likewise, the spider thing will not likely be resolved.  They bother me.  That is that.  If it ever becomes a real issue in my life, I will try to face that fear then.

For now, I think I will try to face fears which bring me larger rewards, such as meeting people with whom I can enthusiastically discuss bad monster movies and jellyfish at 1 a.m. - they are my sort of people.