Last week, I sent out a query letter to literary agents based in New York to find a publisher for The Sunday Night Journal. (I know it’s already published but I want it to reach new markets—United States! United Kingdom! Australia! Brazil! Germany! Spain!)
Every time I write these letters, there’s a swirling ball in the pit of my tummy. I recognize it as dread, as fear. Fear of what?, you may ask. Fear of rejection, that my email will be ignored. Fear that my query letter isn’t good enough or compelling enough. Fear that this is as far as the journal will go—a pile of cardboard boxes in my living room forever.
This feeling is so uncomfortable that I usually run away from it, postponing sending the letter for another month or promising myself I will work on them tomorrow. Even the recognition of what it is doesn’t diminish its power or discomfort.
Courage doesn’t mean the fear is gone. It means knowing what you want and taking the steps despite the ache in your belly, the doubts you’re feeling, the voice in your head that shouts, “You’re not good enough.” What gives me the courage? I know why I’m doing this. I know that letting fear stop me will be a regret I will always have. I know that once this book is published in New York, the accomplishment I will feel is greater than my fear.
And so I do my research, write my letter, re-read, edit and, with sweat on my forehead, shaking hands and hope in my heart, press send.
Don’t let fear stop you from living, from your dreams, from doing things that will make you grow and be better than you were.
