Lacking content again. Imagination Prompt Generator to the rescue!
Herebe my 10 biggest fears:
Speaking in public on something I only somewhat understand. This is why I hate presenting at sales meetings for work. It’s almost always on someone else’s project or research. If it’s stuff I work on regularly, no biggie. Though after my big presentation last month, I feel a little less fearful about it.
I’ve given a couple of literary readings with no problem. That’s just reading. And I can talk about myself about the wazoo. But if I feel unconfident about the subject matter, I’m on the verge of panic attack.
That I’ll never become the successful writer I want to be. I don’t think this will happen. I keep plugging along and once in a while I have a small success, and I know my big break is right around the corner (even if that corner is years away).
But once in a while I imagine myself at 70, having written a lot but not being published the way I’ve imagined, and I get this horrible pit in my stomach.
There’s no use in wallowing over that image. All I can do is keep writing and sending stuff out.
Birds. Wings. Beaks. Claws. ‘Nuff sid.
People in animal or cartoon character costumes. This is a recent fear. When I was a kid, I could care less, but nowadays encountering a life-sized Elmo or Mickey Mouse gives me the heebie jeebies.
Not having any plans. I’m a planner, people! Must have plans.
Driving. Although I grew up in the ‘burbs, I really hate to drive (though I do have my license). I developed the phobia as a teenager, by making the mistake of trying to learn from my parents (read: lots of yelling and pretend brake slamming), and furthered the phobia as an adult by trying to learn stick from my short-tempered ex.
Luckily I live in one of the best walking cities on earth.
That I’ll spend my whole life waiting for the life I want to start. This is connected with my writing. I envision myself totally entrenched in that world of writing and books. So I need to do something about it, right? And I think I am, going to events and things. Writing, taking classes, getting my name out there.
That I’ll have the uncontrollable urge to throw myself off a tall building or in front of a barreling subway train, or to scream in a super quiet place. Not suicidal, totally illogical.
The Exorcist, yet when it’s on, I always watch it.
Running into an ex on the street. Not that I ever run into anyone I know. Still, I always panic when I see anyone who remotely resembles any of the guys I’ve been with. For instance, last weekend I thought I saw H. in Central Park. My reaction? I turned tail and ran. Well, maybe not ran. Walked very fast. Maybe I don’t want a reconciliation after all.