Fear
by Molly-Ann Leikin

I ask all of my new clients what they feel is their biggest obstacle to success.

Ninety-seven percent of them say it's fear.

It's often the fear of coming into town from Where in the World, Wisconsin, and not being as good or competitive as they want to believe they are.

Sometimes it's the fear of going for their dreams and having to discard the prison they're in first. One is familiar, the other isn't.

A lot of frustrated creative people I meet, feel the devil they know is better than the one they don't. What I know best about creativity is we always have to be pushing the envelope and follow the discomfort to our next breakthrough. The minute we feel complacent and unchallenged as artists, we die.

A productive, working artist has to constantly live on the edge. The edge is where the passion is, where the ideas are, the discoveries, the stuff that gives you that rush and makes your brain dance.

It is not found recycling cliches.

It is not found by staying in a suffocating relationship.

It is not found while you have pink, plastic rollers in your hair and drive dented carpools, listening to other people's songs on the radio, wishing they were yours but knowing you don't have the guts to try to get them there.

It is not found sitting in a bar in I Wish I Were In Nashville, Nebraska, nursing the same, sad beer all night, watching the Grammy's on TV, fantasizing about being there next year, knowing full well that you will never go because you're afraid of failing on the way.

Fear.

Here's how I feel about all of this. First, if you want a guarantee, I can definitely give you one - one you can perma-plaque and hang on your wall: if you don't try, you will absolutely fail.

But if you do try, you might get what you want.

Maybe that's what you're really afraid of. What do you do then? How does successful feel? Where will you live? Who's going to be your friend? Will you like it or want to come home? I say worry about it when it happens. Otherwise, it's like saying why make a killing in penny stocks on the NASDAQ, when I'll just have to pay taxes on the profits and filing my tax return will become too complicated. So I'll just stay broke, dragging my tush from VISA payment to VISA payment, because at least I know what it's like, and bad as it is, I know how to "do" it.

This never stopped Bill Gates.

Or Donald Trump.

Have you ever seen Madonna standing still?

Or Diane Warren?

I doubt if the Beatles ever did, either.

Truthfully, the biggest fear I have is of being hooked up to some kind of breathing apparatus when I'm 106, wishing I'd done this or that, but realizing its too late. Totally too late. "Man, I should've hiked the Milford Track on the South Island when I had that chance to go with Pongo the percussionist in '99..."

Fears like this torture me constantly. My own private critic hisses at me all day, reminding me time is ticking by. Each tick gets louder and louder - 'til my critic is screaming that I'd better get on with it. Use it or lose it.

This is all fear-motivated, sure. But it gets me out of bed and into the world every morning. And there I look at some of the casualties I've met who are crippled by their fear. And boy, if ever there was a reason to write a new song or make another phone call or try one more blind date, it's observing how someone else's fear paralyzes them.

Fear is why writers start songs they never finish. Just plain fear. I don't buy into their procrastinations. Write or don't write. Just don't pretend to be an artist. Have the courage to become one. Use your gifts. Don't waste them.

I help writers through their fears and onto the radio all the time. I'm better at this than at anything else. But I absolutely refuse to be an enabler, participating in someone's list of excuses for failure. For that, you need a shrink. I'm a motivator - a mentor - and I love celebrating my clients' victories. But don't try to tangle me up in your rationalization for failure. It won't fly on my flagpole.

I suggest you make fear your friend. It hangs with you all day - so talk to it. "How ya doing, Fear? Want some peppermint tea? Or would that take the edge off and blow your gig? Well, I'm having some. When I finish, I'm going down to Long's Drugs to buy lip balm. My lips are dry from being on the tennis court. Anything I can get for you while I'm at the pharmacy? Like maybe some cyanide? It's on special..".

Sound dumb? Try it anyway. I think you'll find that when you talk to fear, it diminishes the power it has over you.

I just saw the movie, "Boiler Room". In it, a high-pressure salesman tells his new recruits that either they'll sell their clients stock or their clients will sell them the fact that they're not going to buy stock. Either way, somebody's going to sell the other something. Make sure you're on the right end of this transaction.

That sure hit home.

My former publisher, whom I'd admired and respected for 25 years, is now a hopeless drunk. He's been telling me for fifteen years how he used to work for a major corporation that all but controlled the whole music business, how he used to be a player, how he used to hang with the big boys, and how he's going to get something going with the movies. Soon. But maybe he'll move back to L.A. and maybe he'll call ASCAP again about a job and maybe he'll stay put and get an office in Miami.

His indecision, his fear of change, keeps him stuck. Because the part he won't own is that when he gets close to changing his life, using his gifts, no matter how long they've been buried, he starts binging again, so he doesn't have to be afraid anymore. Then he has an excuse for staying in the same mud puddle where he woke up, face down.

I don't have time for that.

I'm too afraid of it.

I'd rather feel the fear and do it anyway. Just like Susan Jeffers says.

© 2000 Molly-Ann Leikin

Go back to column listings