In which I am afraid

Okay, not at this exact moment. But I was chatting with my editor last week, and we were talking about how I have been pushed out of my comfort zone endlessly during the last two years. It's gotten to the point now that I find myself actually LOOKING for situations that make me afraid so I can push through it and come out the other side. (I mentioned this briefly in the blog entry where I talked about climbing into the crawl space under the house. It is maybe two feet high, so there is no way to maneuver except flat on your back or belly, and no way to turn over once you're in--a claustrophobe's nightmare. And we won't even get into the psychological ramifications of knowing there is a whole HOUSE perched directly overhead, waiting to crush you. I went in there on purpose because it occurred to me that if I put myself in a situation that was certain to kick off my claustrophobia and came out of it fine, it might make elevators a little easier to take. It did, actually. I still don't love elevators, but I am slightly more at ease since my excursion under the house.)

Anyway, I mentioned to my editor in passing how much time the last two years I've spent facing down fears, and her response was, "It's good to be afraid." And the more I've thought about it, the more I've come to realize she's absolutely correct. Fear is primal; fear is linked to the bit of animal brain that still lurks under all of our careful domesticity. Fear lets you know you're alive. Adrenaline junkies have known this for eons, but it must be noted that simply hurling yourself down a mountain or throwing yourself out of an airplane are not the only ways to stimulate your adrenaline. In spite of my foray into the crawl space, I seldom challenge myself physically simply because I don't find it nearly as useful or interesting as challenging myself mentally or emotionally.

And that's why I am very glad that the next project I'm working on is not part of the Julia Grey series. With that series I've learned how to write to a deadline, how to keep characters going over several books, how to make successive books better than the ones that came before--all things I was convinced were impossible. So now it's time for something entirely new. It's time to move out of the comfortable and familiar and tackle something terrifying and unknown. (Although let's be entirely clear here, it isn't as though I will be exploring uncharted underwater caves. THAT is something I will not, under ANY circumstances, EVER do. I don't care if Gerard Butler is waiting at the end with forty million dollars tucked under his kilt and the keys to an estate in the Maldives. NO THANK YOU.) My endeavor will be much smaller, but just as satisfying, I think. Because I don't think it matters in the end WHAT kind of fear you stared down, so long as you're not the one who blinks first.

So, what are you afraid of? And what are you going to do about it?