I SCARE MYSELF
Scaring myself is an art I’d been perfecting since I learned, as a little boy, that the stove was hot. I was terrified by rollercoasters yet rode them every chance I got. I feasted on nightmare-causing scary movies like Halloween candy, and I gravitated to my grandmother, who sat me down and told me stories about the Nazis and when, not if, they would be knocking on my door.
Later in life, these tendencies morphed into a kind of pervasive negative orientation in which fear governed my thoughts and actions. Daily, my hyperactive mind flooded with vivid doomsday images, worst-case scenarios, and messages of severe self-judgment.
I scared myself into not trying new things or meeting new people. My world got impossibly small. As a screenwriter, I worked alone, except for an evil Jiminy Cricket who sat perched on my shoulder, criticizing every word I wrote. If I showed a screenplay I’d written to twenty people and nineteen of them loved it, I would only pay attention to the twentieth who didn’t like it, even if the twentieth was brain-dead.
I was never able to do anything about the many forms of self-sabotage, until recently when I started writing books, and particularly the book Hounded: A Love Story.
My desire to write a good book was intense, but I knew I’d be dealing with withering resistance from the monster in my head. Readying myself for an epic tug of war I locked into the idea that my focus and attention had to be at 100%. I rededicated to the practice of discipline and commitment, two areas where I had practically no experience. I did affirmations. I did push-ups.
Finally sitting down at the computer, fortified to the hilt, I found the monster was waiting. It pummeled me mercilessly for days until, hopelessly beaten, I collapsed in a heap and mumbled, “I surrender.” Then, a strange thing happened. I swear I heard a swoosh sound, then a snap. And the monster was gone. I was stunned but had no idea how long this opportunity would last, so I dove into the writing. I wrote for two years. Long enough to finish my book, Hounded: A Love Story, and to experience the thrill of creating something out of nothing, explosive creative energy, and hardly a single scary thought. Freedom. Liberation. I felt like I was channeling.
I can’t explain any of this, but I can sure as hell enjoy it. I only hope the result reflects the joy of the journey.