I’m digging through the parts of my manuscript that have had me the most worried. Worried kinda sick, if you want the truth. Paralyzing worry. I’m re-reading sections I’ve been avoiding for months and months, certain they’ll be even worse than I’ve imagined. But guess what? Not so bad.
I’ve also gone through all of my scrappy notes. Good leads to (maybe) follow. Themes. Character issues (of real live characters). At least a dozen awesome, biting sentences (yea!). Waaaaay too many bullshit “notes to self.” Some not-so-dead dead ends. The “what if I go heres,” and “don’t go theres?”
Still, when I step back far enough, I see what I’ve really been avoiding: DISCOMFORT. More risks need to be taken. I’m being too fucking careful. Careful is the death nell. It’s not my manuscript that needs to be set on fire. It’s me.
This afternoon, my friend Andrea sent me this video. It’s her stepson, JT, doing a commercial shoot. I’ve seen video of JT doing way crazier things, but today I kept playing this little jump over and over. Doesn’t he look Excited? Happy? Successful? Relieved? It’s no coincidence this clip showed up in my inbox today. Time to take a big-ass freefall of my own and see what happens.