Fear's dance partner
aka a not-so-short list of things on my mind right now
The other day, I stepped from my garage into the shining Michigan morning and headed down the driveway for my daily walk. The peonies will pop any day, the birds in my neighborhood are exuberant (edging on deranged, if I’m honest), and the Zyterc is fighting the good fight against the cottonwood. This daily 2ish-mile loop around the neighborhood is saving my life right now. Spring arrived like that one aunt to the family reunion—late and a little disheveled, but full of wonder and wildness.
As I got to the edge of our yard, I took the first sip of the oatmilk latte I had made myself (at that point) almost two hours ago.1
It tasted sweeter than usual.
Hmm. Have I been drinking so much coffee that I can’t even taste the bitterness anymore?
I took off the lid and looked inside.
Somehow in the chaotic morning, I’d managed to steam the milk and make the espresso, but I’d failed to walk back to the coffee maker and pour the espresso into said milk. I pursed my lips and sighed, turned back up towards the house to try again.
I could tell you at least three other things I have done like that this week. Kid in the wrong clothes, keys nowhere to be found, face-palming here and running defense there, and I’ve come to expect it at times like this, honestly. It is Maycember after all—that moment when all the graduations, concerts, and parties are happening at once. It’s as busy as December… just with better weather.
I didn’t just forget my espresso because it’s Maycember, though.
I realized, once up the hill, slowly wandering along my favorite unpaved road in Michigan, that, sure, there is a lot going on literally, but there is also a lot going on within me.
There’s the too-full calendar, and then there’s the anxiety filling my thoughts to the brim.
There’s launching a book, and there’s all the feelings that come with that.
There’s the making of the thing, and there’s the sharing of the thing and all the vulnerability and turbulent mental gymnastics that follow.
In Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, she talks a lot about the mental game of making, specifically fear’s role in the process.
She argues that fear and creativity are two sides of an artist’s coin. Creativity invites us into the unknown, and the mere presence of uncertainty prompts our brains to trigger fear as a protective response. Reading her book many years ago was the first time I realized that fear was good because it meant that creativity was close at hand. And more importantly, if we try to eliminate fear, we’ll end up feeling blocked in another way.
Instead of fighting it, Gilbert suggests treating fear like a passenger on a road trip. She invites the reader to write a letter to Fear—to establish some ground rules before you start a new creative project.
I wasn’t at the beginning of this current creative project, to be sure. In fact, I was nearing a kind of end. I mulled over all of this as I walked my well-worn path.
Reflecting on the journey, from 2024 when I submitted the proposal for this current book, to now, more than two years later, sharing it with the world, I see fear has been with me on this expedition since the beginning of the course. I’ve said it many times before: I much prefer writing books to launching them. (I bet most writers do!) It felt important to name that, yes, it is absolutely expected that a whole new batch of fears would show up at this last leg of our creative and literal road trip.
I let myself imagine stepping off the gravel road of daily routine and into the treacherous, unstable, marshmallow-y landscape of my fears. If life were a video game, the “fear level” would be a fake-cheerful gelatinous minefield, a fun-house mirror candy-land, but with worst-case scenarios and shame spirals wherever you step.
No one cares.
No one shows up.
It’s a flop, and I don’t get to write books anymore.
As much as I found it difficult to be in fear land, to find my feet sticky with the pessimism of these thoughts, I realized that the anxious part of my mind—the little hamster on the wheel of achievement and striving—stopped running for a second as the fears were named.
I rounded the last corner toward home, and I realized that fear was actually the hamster’s fuel. No wonder she was tired. No wonder she forgot the coffee.
I wrote about courage in my first book, The Artist’s Joy, similar to Gilbert’s line of thinking— fear is the invitation to courage, the momentum we use to find motion towards our wildest dreams. People often mention the chapter to me.
I use the image of a ballerina inside the 32 spins Odile in Swan Lake. You can’t think much beyond the spin that you are in. Connecting each one to your deepest “why,” doing the work of showing up even when you’re scared, and then trusting the momentum of the whirl (the three W’s of courage! )
Moving from fear into courage means choosing bravery, following the sense of motion behind it, which you wouldn’t otherwise get from the sidelines. Fear is a manifestation of courage, a sign that you care, a sign to move forward and start spinning. We spin from fear to courage into deeper purpose. We can find there a rooted and impervious joy. Even if specific goals aren’t reached when we exit the spin (even if, as Odile, we can’t get all 32 spins every night), we get something even better: we arrive at the end of that effort a whole new person—fear’s dance partner.
When I got back from my walk, I decided to listen to Elizabeth Gilbert (and myself, haha) and start working with the fear instead of avoiding it.
My fear and I have been dance partners for a long time, maybe all my life. I could’ve written her a letter, but a list felt more right. I realized she had a lot of information for me. After each one, a truth poured out (if the fear was based on a lie), and I added an action to take, too.2
So here it is: my not-so-short list of fears turned truths turned actions—the exact framework that is helping me move through them.
Fear to Focus
Fear: No one will care.
Truth: Some people won’t care, and that’s ok.
Action: Serve the people who do care.
Fear: I’ll run out of energy at the 11th hour.
Truth: You know the things that help you conserve your energy. This is not a sprint; it is a marathon.
Action: walk every day, eat clean, manage coffee and alcohol intake, go to sleep by 10:30, take your B-12 injections every two weeks, talk to friends, close the computer, put down your phone.
Fear: The book sales aren’t going to be good enough.
Truth: What does “good enough” even mean? If you are honest, the ideal sales numbers are…well… infinity. That’s not reasonable or helpful. We aren’t in this for the sales anyway, as nice as specific numbers would be; we are in this for the impact, the message that God loves us through art. Each sale is a beloved human person who is open to receiving that message.
Action: Be grateful for every single one who holds the book in their hands. Create for that ONE. Then any sales beyond one are a bonus. Look, you’re already winning!
Fear: I won’t get to write another one.
Truth: The success of one creation does not get to have that kind of power over you. You can write as many books as you want. If the current partners don’t see your next project as a good fit, you’ll find more partners, or you’ll do it yourself. The motivation to write books can’t come from the unsustainable striving impulse; it must come from joy.
Action: Cultivate joy for your inner artist. Keep writing things that aren’t marketing posts (for goodness' sake). Feed the creative well of inspiration by reading great books, surrounding yourself with art you love, and doing the work of improving your craft from a place of curiosity and love.
Fear: Someone will think it’s derivative and lame.
Truth: Someone probably already thinks that, and look at you— you are still standing.
Action: Tough skin, tender heart.3
Fear: Someone will feel left out.
Truth: Again, you can’t control other people’s feelings. You spoke the truth as you saw it. It won’t be for everyone. You did your best.
Action: Tough skin, tender heart.
Fear: Someone will think it’s heretical.
See above.
Fear: No one will come to the book launch events.
Truth: Your friends and family will be there. They are so much more than no one. Authors you admire sometimes have single-digit numbers at book launch events; it just means the marketing could have been better. It doesn’t mean anything about you or your book.
Action: send personal invites and keep at the marketing game. (It’s a game, remember!)
Fear: I won’t play well at book events and surrounding gigs because I’m too busy with book stuff.
Truth: You have trained all your life for this. You know how to put in the time and effort to get yourself in shape. You can do that with your eyes closed. There’s still time to just do it.
Action: Prioritize the fundamentals practice every single day between now and each event.
Fear: I won’t speak well at book events because I’m too busy making reeds or handling logistics.
Truth: What do you need to feel prepared? There’s still time. And honestly, the best book events are the ones where authors just act like themselves. Show up and be authentically you.
Action: Do the things you know you need to do to get ready to show up how you want. Take some quiet time before going on to name that, create outlines of remarks or workshop prompts, visualize them the day before.
Fear: My husband and kids will feel like they're in second and third place to my work.
Truth: Love doesn’t keep score in minutes; it registers presence. This launch is a season, not a lifetime; I am inviting them into the adventure rather than hiding it from them. Besides, showing my children what it looks like to courageously bring a dream into the world is one of the greatest gifts I can give them.
Action: Protect the margins. When we’re together, put the phone in another room and close the laptop. Brainstorm with the kids what would make this summer great, create a bucket list of simple things each person wants to try, and map out dedicated family-only days on the calendar before the tour even starts.
Fear: I won’t feel confident in my body.
Truth: My body is the instrument that allows me to do this work. It doesn’t need to look perfect to be powerful; it just needs to be nourished and supported. Confidence doesn’t come from a mirror; it comes from feeling grounded, strong, and cared for from the inside out.
Action: Treat my body like the elite athlete it is. Prioritize daily strength and Pilates movement, hit my macro and protein goals to sustain my energy, maintain a hard 10:30 PM bedtime, and remember to breathe deeply before stepping onto any stage.
Fear: I won’t make enough social media content, so everyone forgets I exist.
Truth: No one cares that much about how much you post or forgets you that easily. Most friends online want to support you. You aren’t letting anyone down by not posting. Do what you can each day.
Action: make a reel or post something simple every day until July 7.
Fear: The kids will associate my books with their summers being unfun and hectic road trips to nowhere .
Truth: Edwin and I are co-captains of this road trip, and we get to set the vibe. What if a book tour can be an epic family adventure? I know the kids will remember the weird roadside diners, the hotel pool swimming at 9:00 PM, and the music blaring with the windows down. We can make this a core memory of fun and freedom instead of a work trip.
Action: Be intentional about packing, planning, and having fun! The goal is to be truly present to and with them on this adventure. (Need to name some more action items here! If you have road trip tips or ideas, please share in the comments!)
I sat with the list for a few days. I started taking action, and this week I’ve felt a quiet shift inside my chest. The hamster wheel hasn’t stopped exactly, but the cage doors have cracked open again.
For weeks, I’ve been trying to outrun the possibility of failure, only to realize again that my fear was not the enemy—it was information. The fears are the intense, messy proof of how deeply I care about this book, these people, and this life I’ve built.
When I walked back into the kitchen, I found the forgotten mug of espresso on the counter right where I left it. It was a little cold by now, but as I took a sip, it still tasted good: rich, deep, slightly bitter— completely awake.
The peonies will pop any day.
The road trip book tour countdown is on.
And whether I nail all thirty-two spins or stumble on the first one, I know I am already moving.
Fear is in the passenger seat, but it’s my hands on the wheel.
Thanks for reading, friends. Tell me what action your fears invite you to in the comments!
Links:
Art Is How God Loves Us arrives on July 7!
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Check Out the Summer Book Tour Schedule to see when I’ll be speaking, playing, and celebrating in a city near you!
Thank God for insulated tumblers, am I right?
Action is important since we know, as an Enneagram 4, I can be doing-repressed!
This phrase came from one of my favorite authors, Rachel Held Evans.