Rebellion in the Face of Fear
I originally planned this article out to be exclusively about how rebellion in the face of our creative fears is important. But then the invasion into Ukraine happened. And I realized that the concept goes beyond writing. It speaks to the heart of the human condition. As many of you have, I’m sure, been watching what’s unfolding in Ukraine, anger has risen as a top emotion. Anger at one man’s decision to destroy lives and homes in the name of... what? Control? Power? But what I’m really watching are thousands of people who are rebelling in the face of fear. Men and women who are standing up to the invaders and saying “No. This isn’t right or just and we will not let you win.” I can’t imagine the bravery and courage it takes to stand up to that kind of fear. I hope that I never will. That being said, I do know what it feels like to rebel in the face of fear in my own experiences. In my writing.
I also believe that the word “rebellion” has gotten a bad rap. I don’t know about you, but when I was growing up, that word never meant anything good. It was always used to describe unruly teenagers, anarchists, or people who wish harm to others. It didn’t matter to me what others said though. I rebelled against the shaming of rebellion! I welcomed the “rebel-rouser” namesake. And I was always a rebel with a cause. And truth be told — most people who rebel also have a cause.
In a re-read of Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ Women Who Run With Wolves, I found this paragraph particularly insightful not only for the situation in Ukraine, but for all of us, on a global level:
While much psychology emphasizes the familial causes of angst in humans, the cultural component carries as much weight, for culture is the family of the family. If the family of the family has various sicknesses, then all families within that culture will have to struggle with the same malaises. In my heritage, there is a saying cultura cura, culture cures. If the culture is a healer, the families learn how to heal; they will struggle less, be more reparative, far less wounding, far more graceful and loving. In a culture where the predator rules, all new life needing to be born, all old life needing to be gone, is unable to move and the soul-lives of its citizenry are paralyzed with both fear and spiritual famine.
One of her solutions hits right to the heart of my own belief system and that of many others:
It is my belief that story is meant to set the inner life back into motion again. Story solutions lessen fear, elicit doses of adrenaline at just the right times, and most importantly for the captured naive self, cut doors into walls which were previously blank.
So let’s reframe and reclaim the word in our lives and in our stories, because it’s one of the most powerful entry points to stepping into sovereignty, empowerment and self-awareness. It’s how we reduce the fear and the predator (whether external or internal) to bring us back to ourselves.
How to be rebellious in your writing
I don’t have any statistics to backup this statement, but I truly believe that the biggest issue writers face is... fear. Fear robs us of so many beautiful things. It keeps us from getting to know ourselves and our power better. It robs us of our true and authentic voice. It robs us of personal growth. It manifests and shows up differently for everyone, but at the end of the day, I believe it’s the big ass rock that blocks our way forward. And when you’re facing down a boulder sized obstacle — it can seem unsurmountable. It’s not. I promise you.
Option One:
Write when, how, and where you are. This is so deceptively simple that many of us overlook its power. I think of this step like any meditation or mindfulness practice. We often aren’t in the mood, don’t have the right atmosphere or environment, and really, no desire. Sometimes, all of that is accompanied by fear in some way.
“What if I can’t do it?”
“What if I suck?”
“What if nothing happens?”
“What if... what if... what if...”
One of my favorite quotes is this: “Fear stops the trying and leaves you with nothing but the longing.” — Mark Pierce
When we choose to react to our fear by avoiding it — we’re left with this all-encompassing shame-grief longing. It’s a terrible place to be at — I know because I’ve been there. And, chances are, I’ll be there again because it’s cyclical and completely natural to want to avoid fear.
What we gain by the actual doing of the thing though is quieting that fear. When we tell ourselves, “I am scared, but I’m going to try anyway,” we end up throat punching fear. And the easiest way to begin is by starting exactly where you are in this moment.
Mini Case Study
When I first started writing morning pages, every kind of block you can think of came up. I tried everything I could not to do the work. But Julia Cameron’s words (and that of my creativity mentor) stuck in my head: just start with where you are.
What does that really mean though? What does it look like?
Well, for me, it looked like a lot of this at first:
I don’t know what to write. It’s early morning and I hate early mornings. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get these stupid pages done when I’m not even awake yet. I need more coffee. I hate this. This is stupid. How does any of this matter? Who cares that I write these pages?!
After a few months it started to look like this:
Saturday, I came across Danielle Dulsky’s Witches Apprenticeship program and applied. It was a very “do I or don’t I?” Type of situation. I even did a spread for it. Then I asked Allie about the spread. Then I debated some more. Then I finally just applied. And then yesterday... I got my “acceptance” letter.
And I got the last spot! It was synchronicity but it also felt right. The program is INCREDIBLE and I’m so freaking excited for it — it’s like getting my Hogwarts letter. How cool is that?
There is so much information out there about being a witch that it’s overwhelming to the extreme. Part of what drew me to the apprenticeship program was the small and directive nature of it. It does feel like an MFA program for witches, which is essentially what I’ve wanted.
I want to go into this apprenticeship feeling like the first day of something new... that butterflies in the stomach, excited but nervous, ready but unsure how it’ll go feeling. I love it. I’m most present and ready to learn in those moments. I want to be immersed in learning and practicing and motivated to dig deeper into the elements so that I can put it all into practice. I want it to somehow help me further my business desires and goals.
I want to feel confident in who I am, where I come from, and feel ready to embrace the “witch” that I am. I want to be able to teach others who are interested in the craft in a way that is not scary or overwhelming. I want to be able to claim my right as a witch without fear of what others will think.
And after a year, it looked like this:
The call today for my intensive was FABULOUS. We were continuing the conversation around capacity. We talked about it quite a bit and I made several realizations around it. Like the fact that I spoke my truth to someone about my capacity and they didn’t receive it well. I realize and accept now that it’s going to happen sometimes. That when we are brave enough to state where our capacity is and others choose not to accept it, it means sometimes losing that person or thing. That’s a really hard realization to have to come to and accept, but it’s also necessary in the way it’s necessary to realize our capacity limits and being brave enough to stand up for them.
In that conversation, I talked about Kali and the whole idea of burning things down to create anew and realized that ultimately, that’s what is at the heart of the novel I want to write — this idea that destruction is painful but necessary and that it makes way for the good to come through.
Another thing we talked about in terms of capacity is how we show up for the things that truly matter (like anti-racism work) and I mentioned that when it comes down to it, we have two options, to fight or to lift. And there’s a time/place for both, but there’s always a limitation as to our capacity to do so. Years and years ago, I had more capacity to fight. But I’m tired. Tired of fighting and tired of burning my capacity on fighting things that don’t seem to change. I don’t have that in me, anymore. Instead, I realize that I do have more capacity to lift others up. That I have far more energy/capacity to bring attention and light to others who DO have the capacity to fight.
Then when we got into the big group discussion, there was talk about capacity in terms of what we should be doing vs what we need to be doing, etc. One of the ladies said something like, “right now my job is to take care of myself and recharge my capacity. If I have zero left in the tank, zero left in my capacity, I can’t do anything.” And I love that because it ultimately comes down to so much of what we talk about when it comes to burnout and self-care, etc. And that it’s a radical approach because can you imagine talking to someone and saying, “Yeah, I’m not about doing my daily responsibilities today because my job, my only job, today is to take care of my depleted capacity.”
And then lastly, talking about capacity in the context of changes. I know I fall into this trap so often. As in, I’m IN the thick of it right now. I just filled out a document of “changes I want to make” with to-do lists associated and of course, the feelings of overwhelm and dread that come with that. We weren’t built with the capacity to handle all of that — never mind in addition to all the OTHER things we have to keep in mind for our capacity levels. So I need to really be choosing wisely when it comes to which changes make the most sense for my capacity limits right now. Which changes will help me re-fuel instead of deplete that capacity? THOSE are the things I really need to be focusing on rather than all the sweeping changes at once.
Do you see the progression happening? Of course, it’s not quite as easy to see in three single journal entries, but I have 600+ to pull from and what I see is this:
Me, in the beginning, full of fear and apprehension. Unsure of my capabilities to fulfill even the smallest task of “just starting.”
Me, gaining confidence in daily pages after doing it consistently for months. This version of me is able to talk about what is exciting in my life. Where I want to be. Where I want to go.
Me, after a year of daily pages, writing about the deep, internal parts of myself that need attention. Me, making connections that I probably wouldn’t have made had I not been journaling.
Take heart, dear ones. If you start where you are... you’ll end up where you want to be. I am no longer afraid of the page, at all. In fact, I go to the page precisely when I’m in fear. It feels as if it’s the only comfort I truly have. And I didn’t get there by following “rules” or setting a word count goal or a time limit. I got there by writing where, when, and how I was that day. Over and over and over again until it was no longer scary.
Option Two:
Write for yourself and only yourself. I know a lot of incredibly talented writers who no one will ever get to read because they don’t share their work. They don’t write to be read. They write to write. They write to understand themselves and the world. To make meaning. They are not interested in sharing their work not because they are fearful, but because it is something that exists for just them. This is exactly the advice I give my students when the topic of fear and writing comes up. If you are terrified of someone reading your work or someone finding it... don’t write it for them. Write it for you. The best part? You get to decide what you do with it when you’ve got it out on the page.
I have a student who burns the pages she’s written her deepest darkest thoughts onto. The rest that aren’t so deep? She keeps it in her journal until the end of the year and she burns the entire thing. This is not something I, personally, would do, but it’s a fantastic option for those who are not confident in the safety and security of the world around them. Sharing what you write is always optional. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Your work is your work and it doesn’t belong to anyone except for you. Writing for yourself is incredibly liberating, empowering, and therapeutic — and maybe someday you might want to share it. But if, and only if, you feel ready and after you’ve throat punched fear a few times along the way ;)
And if you’re curious how others put this into practice, read this beautiful article by Liam Greenwell about Artist Fritz Kistel who created solely for himself.
Option Three:
This option is again, simple, but not easy. It’s called: Not taking life or writing too seriously. I know, what a big statement! Here’s a quote from Julia Cameron that has stuck with me though,
“Making writing a big deal tends to make writing difficult. Keeping writing casual tends to keep it possible.” — Cameron, Julia. The Right to Write (Artist's Way) (p. 19). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
She’s right. The minute we start attaching outcomes, deadlines, expectations to our writing is the moment we make it a bigger deal than it ought to be. This is a HUGE source of fear for writers. Especially when it comes to writing to be read. When we write to be read (writing an academic paper, writing for publication, a personal essay for an editorial slot, etc.,) we automatically impose restrictions on ourselves and can become fearful to write what we actually want to write. I once had an exchange with a student that went like this:
“Well, I want to write these really sexy erotica scenes but I’m too afraid people will think it’s weird and wrong and not very good.”
“Have you tried to write a scene like that before?”
“…”
“How do you know if it’ll be too weird, wrong or not very good, then?”
“...”
“What if you didn’t make it a big deal? Like just try it out once and see what happens?”
I asked her if she’d be comfortable trying to write one of the scenes and sharing it with me. She agreed and you know what? It was really good. It wasn’t weird or wrong or bad, AT ALL. When I told her so, she seemed in disbelief.
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” I told her. “I’m betting that if I don’t think it’s weird or wrong or bad, others won’t either, but you won’t know until you write more of it and share when you’re ready.”
That student has now published three successful erotica novels. If she could get past the fear that held her back, you can too.
I took the “big deal” out of her fear and left it in the casual realm. Just that small shift in perspective gave her enough of a window to rebel against her fear and do it anyway. But you don’t need a coach to tell you that. You just have to believe it yourself.
To be honest, every time I feel like I’m starting to make my writing a “big deal,” I write at the top of my page:
WRITING IS NOT AS BIG OF A DEAL AS YOU THINK IT IS.
Option Four:
Steal like an artist. No, I don’t mean plagiarize, I mean take what exists and make it your own. In Austin Kleon’s aptly named book, “Steal Like an Artist,” he says,
“Start copying what you love. Copy copy copy copy. At the end of the copy you will find your self.” — Austin Kleon, Steal Like an Artist: 10 Things Nobody Told You About Being Creative
And in the great words of T.S. Eliot,
“Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique, utterly different from that from which it was torn.”
Same goes for whatever creations you want to make. Including writing.
While this is all good and well, sometimes we don’t even know where to start in order to steal like an artist. Don’t fret! I have some suggestions. Try one, try them all, and then do it all over again and again.
Grab 3-5 books from your collection. These can be completely random or your favorites, or ones you absolutely despise. Doesn’t matter. Then, you’ll open to a random page in the book, find a paragraph, and rewrite it your way. Then do the same thing with the next few books. You could try to connect the scenes together or you could write separate scenes. Try it both ways and see which you like better.
Think of a movie, television series, or even a book that you loved but hated the ending or the outcome. Rewrite the ending your way. Or change the story to suit how you wish it would have turned out.
Think of a common “trope” that bothers or annoys you (for me, it's those pesky “miscommunication” tropes) and write or build out a story that gives the trope a fresh perspective or spin.
Try to identify a product that one of your favorite creators made poorly. Write a letter (that you will never send) to the creator on how they could have done the “thing” better in your eyes. [Note — This is not necessarily judgment on them, rather, you’re working out how you would have approached it differently.]
Have you ever loved the title of a creative piece but hated the story? Use the title for something you want to create. Brainstorm ideas if you don’t know what you want to create yet.
Conclusion
Though I’ve given you tips and suggestions to try and break the hold fear has on you — it’s not up to me (or anyone else) to say when it’s time for you to step into your power. That is what your heart is for. It will tell you when it’s time for some throat punching. And if you need help to get there, well, there’s a helluva lot of ways to get it. More importantly, whoever you are, wherever you’re at in life — you have the power to make the choice.
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Did you find this article useful? Would you like someone to help you break through fear? Consider one of my programs or products as a starting place.
My Write to Heal course is perfect for beginner (and veteran) journalers who want to try to get past some of their emotional blocks and fears.
My customized journals are built for you. Everything is tailored to what you want to work through in your life or writing projects.
If you feel like you’re ready to face the fears of your trauma, my workshop Writing Fiction to Heal may be something you can use.
Lastly, if you’re looking for 1-1 Coaching, check out what I have to offer here.
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Note: I owe the development of this piece to my wonderful friend and fellow trauma recovery coach, Will. I was inspired to write this piece after he asked a few really great questions about the process. This was an attempt to answer some of those questions (I hope this helps, Will!)
