Facing Down Fear

Lately, when I sit down to write, soul seizes up inside; I sit there numb, not knowing what to say. I have stories, and paths to take them down.
 But I’m not sure. And I second guess myself into inactivity. I sit there, hoping to show up, have the words come, and instead surf the Internet, or game the time away. When it’s finally quiet at night, when there is time to think, instead of working I watch T.V.
 Because I’m afraid. Afraid of where the stories will take me, afraid of investing so much of myself into something no one will likely ever read, afraid of rejection, of my work being scorned. None of the accolades, or encouragements, I’ve received in times gone by seem to count for much these days.
 I want to break, as Jim Morrison sang, on through to the other side. The only way I know how is to make myself work.
 And the only way to do that is face my fears. Practically speaking, this means imposing a deadline. I’m putting it out here, friends and readers, so that you may hold me accountable:
 By hook, or by crook, I will have a book of short stories done in two month’s time. You heard it hear first.
 Though it drive me crazy, “so let it be written, so let it be done.” And please don’t hesitate to ask me how the writing’s going.