My brain is fried in the best possible way. I've got days of learning and tips and good information all piled in there like a library that needs a book sale. Writing isn't for the faint of heart.
I gaze at people networking and connecting all around in our cozy conference space and I notice the slight discomfort in my chest.
Then dazed, I realize the moment might pass for me to connect too. If I don’t act now, it might be gone.
If I don’t march up to Jonathan Merritt with my heart beating out of my chest and start talking to him, because my opportunity is here, I won’t get another.
Sometimes you have to leap, you have to try. That’s the sensation I felt when I attended “Writer’s Boot Camp,” and interacted with some amazing people.
Now is the moment.
The first day I looked around and realized these cadets aren't here on accident. They didn’t sign up for this conference and think, ‘Hey, that sounds better than a spa weekend."
I realized they were like me; frenzied lives, mounds on their plate. But they couldn't ignore that the craft of writing matters, and it's calling to them, so they’re here. They hope to spin their dreams into the web of reality.
Folks looked like business and ready to work. Those writers were hungry. They wanted to learn and the electricity in the room was tangible.
That was them, but can I tell the truth here?
I walked into the room and felt my knees shake and my voice catch. Sure was glad I wore deodorant, because I needed it.
But still, I was there.
Presented with an opportunity to learn, to grow something that I care about deeply, writing.
So I took it.
I didn’t just take it, I jumped into the ice cold water of it and swam around. I looked my fear in the eye and said 'That's all you got?"
I reached out when I felt uncomfortable but soon made connections. I asked questions when I wondered if it was stupid. I walked up to Margaret Feinberg and Jonathan Merritt and knew that I was enough, even though I was intimidated as an elf is to Santa Claus.
Reader, I am so grateful that I chose to show up. I am so thankful that I chose to lean into my story and not pretend it doesn’t matter. Writing does matter, talking to my audience matters. Living a brave story matters. Empowering others to live courageously matters.
It’s interesting how some lessons are like an onion. You can peel away three or four layers and guess what? There are more waiting. I think bravery and perfectionism are like that. You begin to think you're enough, and then find yourself in a situation where you feel infinitely not enough.
What do you do with that? Do you allow that to be your truth? Do you allow the narrative of scarcity to write your story?
I wonder, what would it take for you to stare your fear in the face? What would allow you to own your story and then take the leap anyway?
Maybe today's the day to find out.