Q&A: Eleven Ways to Become a Sucker for the Unfamiliar
By Jan O'Hara | December 20, 2010 |
Kit Dunsmore asked: How do you deal with the different stages of a writing project, especially the ones that are least natural for you?
A: At the personal level, what stops me from pushing through the unfamiliar is always fear. Fear that I’ll fail, that I’ll be mediocre, that I’ll be mocked, irrelevant.
But I understand that these same issues follow and inhibit me wherever I go — whether it’s in the classroom when I advocate for my child, at a car dealership when I’m making a purchase, or when standing before the mirror and deciding between white and vermillion blouses. (My advice is to ditch them both for the Mr. Bean t-shirt. You can’t go wrong with Mr. Bean.)
I don’t like to be afraid or to mute myself. Frankly, it pisses me off. And since I can’t escape the desire to break from safety into something bigger, why not face it down in the one place I’ve always yearned to be: writing?
Let writing serve as life’s crucible.
With this orientation, no matter how long I flail — and trust me, I could teach a PhD-level course in flailing — I seem to return to proactivity and action.
Now, in case that’s way too deep and personal of an answer for you, below are more concrete suggestions. I used them to babystep myself through medical training, family practice, and twenty-six years of marriage to the same, long-suffering man. So far they’re helping me in this world, too.
You’ll notice I’m explaining through extended metaphor. If you’re like me, you’re an overthinker; story can hit a different part of the brain, closer to where fear originates.
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You’ve entered a gourmet restaurant in pursuit of the ultimate dessert. You’re prepared for the prices and snooty waitstaff, but not the plate that’s set before you. This chef is eccentric, your waiter informs you. You may have your cake — possibly — but you must first eat the octopus. Every last bite.
How do you cope?
If you’re like most people, you begin with rebellion. Alas, no matter whether you employ charm, negotiation, or threats, the waiter remains unmoved. He tosses a Byron Katie quotation in your face: “When you argue with reality you lose, but only 100% of the time.”
This is where some will drop out. They know their heart. They’re not willing to eat the octopus for any amount of sweets.
Others almost immediately shrug and reach for their utensils. When they catch you staring in horrified fascination, from around a dangling tentacle, they utter a, “Wha—?”
If you’re a member of either group, you’re probably at peace. You’re living aligned with your values.
But what if you’re in the third party? What if you think you want the dessert, but you’ve never tasted it to be certain it’ll be worth the effort? What if the thought of ingesting something with a beak and eight legs makes you want to puke?
A few principles:
1. It’s natural to want to study the problem first.
Prudence isn’t a bad thing, especially if it means you’ll skip food poisoning. Gathering useful tools can save time. You come to this restaurant with a familiar learning style — whether it’s to watch an expert, get a cookbook, take a course, etc. Go with your strengths.
But beware staying in preparation too long. Eating is about action. It’s not necessary to know the scientific name of your octopus’s species. You’re in trouble if you’re knitting him booties and calling him Blinky, yet haven’t tested his weight in your palm.
So yes, prepare. But whenever you think you can eat, do. Immediately. There’s nothing like taking a bite of octopus to build confidence that you can handle taking a bite of octopus.
2. Eat the worst first every time you sit to table.
That way, when you have a bad day and find yourself balking at a tentacle, you can legitimately say, “I already ate an eyeball. How hard can this be?”
On the bad days, if all you do is tie the napkin around your neck and manage a nibble, do it. It keeps your head in the game. That’s one less nibble for tomorrow. You might also discover your appetite.
3. Celebrate each time you finish a milestone, either privately or with other patrons.
4. Don’t dwell on how much you hate the process. Victimhood equals nausea.
5. Pick the people at your table carefully.
Hang around with the eaters and not the people who think it’s hilarious to make gagging sounds right when you’re lifting fork to mouth. Bravery is contagious. Borrow courage from the eaters. Borrow their thinking processes. Borrow their recipes and watch how they negotiate with the chef for ketchup. Ask them to watch your eating technique and give you pointers.
Most of all, hang with the ones who by word and deed imply a quiet expectation of good things from you.
6. Pass it on.
Share your own bravery or eating competence, not just with people who need it, but with the people who help you put butt in chair. You’ll feel better, and your own appetite will be strengthened.
7. Make a practice of remembering when you ate or did strange things before and it turned out better than expected.
8. When you stall-out, go into problem-solving mode.
Is the issue your heart or your tools? Do you need a break for a while – some sherbet to cleanse the palate? Do you need to take care of your body, relationships, finances, greater life?
Many people try to flog themselves or shame themselves into eating more, or compare themselves to others. Long term this doesn’t work. It only magnifies anxiety which, in turn, contributes to nausea. As in life, when it comes to eating octopi, “carrot” makes a better side dish than “stick.”
9. Keep your eye on the “why.”
As Nietzsche said, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” Why do you want the chocolate cake? What does it represent for you? Are there benefits to finishing besides the dessert? Might your children learn bravery at the table? Might you see yourself differently? Might you learn it’s not the end of the world to look silly in front of others? Get conscious of all the things you gain in both the attempt and the achievement.
If you can make the eating enjoyable, so much the better. The waiter didn’t say anything against using music, candles, deadlines, or good-natured rivalry to achieve your goal.
10. See the unknown as opportunity and mystery.
Be honest with yourself: aren’t you the teeniest bit curious about how it feels to poke the tip of your tongue into the concavity of a sucker? Don’t you want to see if you’ve got it in you? Maybe you can have a swordfight with a tentacle; dip it in water and use it to lick a stamp; create a tentacle-shaped popsicle and make millions. Mystery can equal fun.
11. Use resources to keep your head in the game. Some of my favorites:
- Seven Steps on the Writer’s Path: The Journey from Frustration to Fulfillment – by Nancy Pickard and Lynn Lott
- The Writer’s Book of Hope: Getting from Frustration to Publication by Ralph Keyes
- L.J. Cohen’s recent post here, Accentuate the Positive: Hope and the Aspiring Writer
- The Forest for the Trees (Revised and Updated): An Editor’s Advice to Writers by Betsy Lerner
- Byron Katie — the site’s not specific to writing, but it’ll teach you to kick limiting beliefs to the curb. Check out the resource page and the videos.
Now how about you folks? Any other tidbits you can offer on pushing through fear of the unknown? Don’t feel you have to stay with the octopus metaphor, but bonus points if you do.
Let’s cast a wide net. ;)
A USA Today bestselling author, former family physician and academic, Jan O’Hara (she/her) left the world of medicine behind to follow her dreams of becoming a writer. She writes love stories that zoom from wackadoodle to heartfelt in six seconds flat: (Opposite of Frozen; Cold and Hottie; Desperate Times, Desperate Pleasures). Her latest Christmas novella, The Cowboy’s Comeback Christmas, is part of a 9-author-strong anthology (A Cowboy This Christmas: A Sweet Romance Anthology). She also contributed to Author in Progress, a Writer’s Digest Book edited by Therese Walsh.
#4 is huge for me. The more I think about a problem, the bigger it gets. Whereas if I just sit down and tackle it, I can usually solve it, one way or another!
Anyway, hehe, cute metaphor, and good advice. (And hey, octopus isn’t so bad, really. I don’t know about eyeball, though…)
Pushing through the unknown for me hasn’t been so much in regards to writing lately, but in terms of fashioning a website. This is all totally unknown (read: scary) territory for me, but I’ve learned a lot and finally have a site that I’m not ashamed to show off!
Great points one and all, Jan. As always, you’ve done a wonderful job isolating the problem and offering solutions.
8 and 9 are the big ones for me right now. I’m kicking myself for not being done with a massive revision that should’ve been done 2 weeks ago, but am trying to take a deep breath and tell myself that the deadline was mostly something I set for myself and I’m forever underestimating the length of time they take anyhow. So my estimate is the problem, not my focus. Or something. And then I remind myself that I have someone excited to read said revisions when they’re finished, and it’s more important to take those two weeks to get them right.
Still not sure I could get excited about eating a squid eyeball though lol. Thanks for making my coffee that much more palatable this morning, Jan !! This was a great kick-in-the-pants post, thank you.
Right now I’m facing writing the end of my WIP, and it’s slow going. I think it’s because I’m afraid that if I’m done, what will I do next? I’m waiting to hear from my agent on an entirely different proposal, and writing this book kept me from stressing over being in limbo on that one.
And I’m definitely a “finish the yucky stuff first” person — who wants to end a meal with a bad taste in her mouth? (Of course, I also have a cross-stitch that says, “Life is Uncertain, Eat Dessert First” on my kitchen wall.
Terry
Terry’s Place
Romance with a Twist–of Mystery
I would say, once you get to a certain point, you graduate to chef. Then the tricky task becomes standing in the kitchen, wringing your hands as others taste how you’ve prepared the octopus. Will they like it? You know–you KNOW–that there will be those who will hate it. But that won’t make it any easier to see the return of platters full of tentacles and eyeballs. You have to learn to bask in the kinder words from people who didn’t think they’d like it and did, who would like seconds, who will recommend your dishes to others.
Thanks for the fun post, Jan! I laughed my way through it. :-)
Wow, Jan, I am so impressed with how your mind works. This is a fabulous road map for writing, but an equally great metaphor for life. Congratulations on wonderful imagery and ‘food’ for thought.
For me, in my current frame of mind, #5 and 6 are two of the most important. Surrounding yourself with supportive people, who will cheer you on and mirror the positive is imperative to success.
And finally, I’d probably eat the octopus, but eschew the dessert. I’m trying to lose a few pounds. :)
That was awesome.
Good grief, Jan, you set the bar too high with these posts! I love the metaphor (that probably goes without saying) and as you know I whole heartedly agree with #6.
If I had to add anything, I’d say keep the cake on the table while you eat the octopus. Seeing (smelling) the goal keeps me moving forward. When it comes to writing, I keep my favorite books in close proximity, and there’s a reserved spot on the shelf where mine will eventually go.
Kristan, I’ve enjoyed octopus sushi myself. When I found that picture, though, I had to run with the post that popped into my mind. As to the eyeballs, yeah, ewww.
Teresa, I hear you on the technology-related fear. Oy. That’s one thing I’m definitely babystepping.
Rebecca, glad if it helped. I’m a chronic underestimator too, but you know what? That’s good self-knowledge to possess before getting to deadlines that involve other people. Now go revise. ;)
Terry, well you’re nothing if not conflicted. (Pot-kettle moment there, in case you can’t tell. ;) ) So for you, the octopus is more about coping with transition time. I’m only half-joking when I say you might consider brainstorming some in-between tasks that will move you towards your long-term career goals, but that are not tied into a wip. And you didn’t ask for advice, so feel free to ignore!
Therese, now I’m thinking of the graceless manner in which I handled the last time I slaved over a meal and my family objected. You know: when they didn’t like the peas and potatoes touching. Okay. Someone has a little prep work to do, LOL.
Deborah, aw, thank you, but I’m just too old to lie to myself and get away with it. And don’t worry, you’re still part of my team, even if you are a Dessert Hater. ;)
Hear, hear on #2! I always get the worst done first, and then I can move nicely along to #3 and celebrate! In fact, I probably over-celebrate — finally wrote that sentence…time for a piece of chocolate. Made my word count for the day…out to dinner.
You listed some great resources, Jan. Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird always inspires me to keep on keeping on.
Melissa, sorry, you snuck in there. Thank you!
Anne, you made me blush! Thank you. Ooh, what good ideas there! Bring the future into the present with visual and olfactory foreshadowing. I love foreshadowing.
Amanda, yes, thank you. I love BIRD BY BIRD.
Hilarious and yet totally true. :-) Great post! 5 and 6 are key for me. I dwell by nature; I think it’s inherent in introverts. So I need to force myself to hang out with others who can keep focused on moving forward.
Tracey, I think you’re right about the introversion/dweller paradigm. Thank goodness for all those other folk!
Jan, I love #3 and I’d be stuck without it. Sometimes I only have time for a few sentences or even just time for scribbling an idea on a post it. I try to see each tiny “accomplishment” that is a tiny step closer to my goal.
What a fun post! And I agree with Anne. High bar!
I’d rebell – I’d say “Screw you, Mean Arse Waiter,” and then I’d get up, leave the restaurant, stop at a chocolate/dessert place on the way home; when I arrived home, I’d eat a simple sandwich and then I’d dive into the dessert of my choice – I’ve never been a cake person anyway – don’t need that snooty ole waiter and his stupid cake – so there!
:pD
PS – love this article/post, Miss Tart!
Oh, this was fabulous, Jan! Though I should confess I fall into the ‘pick up the fork, “Wha?” group on most things… If I think too much, I won’t do it… BUT I WILL DO IT. So i know not to over analyze…
What a DARLING little baby Cthulu! (did you know they sell plush Cthulus? I really need one)
Nina, sometimes those found moments offer the richest material too, don’t they? And thank you!
Kat, I’m a little concerned about your submissiveness. Let’s have words in private, okay? ;)
Hart, there’s a reason you are Tart, and it ain’t because of your delicacy and fear. ;) That’s a good thing, BTW. Yes, I’ve seen those plushies. They’re very cute.
Wow, Jan, the way your mind works always blows me away. :) I loved every bit of this, even though my gag reflex is working overtime right now. LOL I think #7 (remembering previous moments that were better than expected) and #9 (keep an eye on the why) really work the best for me.
Great post. :)
Donna, thank you so much – high praise, indeed. Next time I’ll hand out precautionary barf bags, okay? ;)
Have you noticed that there are no male posts here? Why is that? Is it because men are not as conflicted by the social nicities? Perhaps a man would either leave or punch out the presumptious waiter. Or, maybe men aren’t that food fastidious. Meat and potatoes and lots of it, hold the squid. Nonetheless, I thought it a most creative metaphor. Huzzah!
Marisol Perry and Nona Mills, there are comments in your name that are copies of previous ones. I’m assuming that’s a “gift” from the malware and will take the liberty of erasing them. Hope you’ll try again if you had something you wanted to say.
Alex, I will not presume to speak for men. Heck, most days I can barely speak for myself. ;) Thank you, though. Glad you enjoyed it.