“People who are governed by fear are the most dangerous sort of all…Worse than anger…far worse than envy or bloodlust. In fact, you might say that every other dangerous emotion has its true roots in fear. Never underestimate a fearful man.”
This is from my novel Mimic. There is a definite irony in the context of who is speaking, and to whom (he’s manipulating her for his selfish purposes, enabled by her fear that he’ll reveal her secret), but I think it carries truth nonetheless. I’m also quite fond of Yoda’s iconic words from Episode I: “Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering.” Of course appropriate fear, perhaps better termed caution, is essential to protect one from unnecessarily endangering one’s self or others. But in excess, it is debilitating, mind-clouding, even dangerous. I believe that the less I am governed by fear, the better my life will be.
So how’s this for irony: I spent a lot of my time feeling terrified.
I worry about my children. That’s perfectly normal for a mother, especially when one of the children has special needs. I worry about our house falling apart and how we’re going to pay for repairs. I worry about running out of money; also fairly typical for a family living off the single income of a school teacher. I would say one of the main things I discuss with my therapist is how to fight off the crushing anxiety that weighs on me. Well, at least I’m working on it.
But I’m functioning. I’m doing my best to confront adulthood even if I’d rather hide under the bed like a three-year-old. It’s another set of fears that’s on my mind right now. The fears that keep from me putting my work out there for other people to see.
The fear of rejection. The fear of ridicule. The fear of achieving only the infamy of public mockery — or the fear of not getting any notice at all. These fears are truly crippling. I long to be published; it’s the only career I could feel really passionate about, even if I never become more than a mid-list author. And yet I hesitate to send out more queries, fearing that I’ll ruin my chance with another set of agents. Fearing that one more round of form rejections will have me so depressed that I’ll just give up on it forever. (And yet if I’m not querying, haven’t I already as good as given up?)
Even with my sillier hobbies, I fear to put it out there. Fear that for every person who enjoys the goofy Star Wars video I made, there were be some nasty troll. That there will be more snide laughter than good-natured chuckling. I am constantly torn between wanting so much to share what I’ve created and cringing in terror at the very notion of it. I’m not sure if the Internet has made this mindset better or worse. I find it delightful that I can post fan fiction and gain a following of readers who happily provide immediate feedback. I’ve also tortured myself if I post something and don’t get any replies within the first half hour. I’m sure without the Internet, my neuroses would find some other way to manifest. But anyway.
I suppose it would be helpful for me to acknowledge what I’ve been able to do, in spite of my fears. I’ve sent out plenty of queries. I’ve gritted my teeth through the rejections and sent out more. I’ve gotten helpful suggestions from beta readers and hunkered down to do revisions, even though I loathe revisions and sometimes truly fear that I’ll just make my book worse by trying to fix it. I’ve put some of my creations out there, fannish or otherwise, and weathered the negative responses along with the positive. It helps that I haven’t really encountered any trolls yet. But when I do, I’ll just have to remind myself not to listen to their voices, any more than I should listen to the little troll inside my own head whose name is Fear. I’ll finish with another quote, from Frank Herbert’s Dune:
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
cynthiaailshie 
I dont so much fear judgement of the internet troll, of the stranger, so much as judgement from those I know. The people I have to see in day to day life, coworkers, friends and family.
I write some intense stuff. Sex, for starters. But also rape, taboo subjects, abuse, and one smutty short story I’d about BDSM.
How can I consider publishing these things when I know my supportive family are going to want to read it? How do I look at them, talk to them, thereafter?
I console myself that its a problem for another day (I’m no where near publishing), but that day must come eventually….
And the truth is, all writing, whether intense or mild-mannered, is revealing by its very nature. When you write you put a part of yourself into it. To let others read it is like opening up the inner recesses of your mind to the scrutiny of outsiders. It requires a willingness to be vulnerable, yet still thick-skinned. If I ever figure out how to strike that balance, I’ll let you know. 😉
I see your problem (kinda). I have published my first novel two years ago. Now I am working on the Prequel. I love to flesh out the world and people I created. I knot that I will never be famous, but I’m okay with that. I enjoy privacy. And my writing is about the fun. And yet I of course have other moments… I fear to vanish without Memory of me and my work. A cold Stone without flowers or tears. But I’m also happy about those thoughts, they help me to remember what I value. What I stand for. And if I can make some People happy in my time here… well, I get happy. But the first book wasn’t always about the publishing. It started as fun. Pure fun. All the thoughts had to come after that. My new Project is also fun. But at the same time its work. I think about the plot. The characters. The World. I want it to be deep. Yet not to complicated. The balance is not easy. But I keep going, becouse I love and need it. And the authors and stories I love are with me all the time. wish you all the best. And most import: fun while writing.
Yes, it’s really true what they say about any kind of artist – you’re not doing it for money, fame or honor, because clearly none of those things are guaranteed. You’re doing it because you can’t ever imagine not doing it.