I hemmed, I hawed. I decided against it. I talked myself into it. I put it off until the last, last, possible moment. I harassed friends and family on extremely short notice for opinions and editing advice. I literally forced myself to do this.
Why? I asked myself this as I groaned through my seventh revision in twenty-four hours. As I stared at the computer screen, toggling between fonts, I tried a tactic my mother taught me. I muttered "What's the worst possible thing that could happen if I hit the send button?" My husband replied "We could all blow up." Hmmm. Well, that brought me back down to earth.
I may have shared this before, but there is a solid steel block on my desk that my mom sent me a few years back which has this engraved into it:
What would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?
This makes me pause on a regular basis and think about whether or not I have the courage to do something that feels hard. Today, I decided that even possibly not failing, was a good enough reason to try. How will my children learn courage if they never see me try hard at something that scares the living wits out of me?
I'm not expecting to win this contest, but I am expecting it to be the first submission of many. After all my hysteria (and if you know me you know I love a good dose of hysteria in my projects), right now I just feel happy. And relieved. And accomplished. You know those writing goals I started out with after the retreat in October? I am actually making progress! How cool is that?