It’s officially day #2 of consecutive rain in LA. For some east-coasters like me its a welcome or even indifferent change of pace, but for most Angelinos it’s an apocalyptic sign, precipitating a huge increase in car-break slamming, excuse making (I actually heard someone say “I couldn’t go to my audition because it was just so cloudy), and all around hysteria and fear.
It’s silly to have a fear of things that shouldn’t be feared. But I guess that’s all relative.
I’m pretty certain I have a fear of success. For someone who is basically self-employed and definitely self-promoted, this weaves a real web of stupid for my career goals and hard work, not to mention does a number on my love life.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who does this wishy washy shit to their egos. In fact, what I am sure about is that this is learned behavior (thanks mom and dad). I mean, it’s probably good to feel hesitant towards risks, or we’d all be throwing ourselves into things we’re unqualified for or bankruptcy or something. I’m also trying to be sure that I can probably learn my way out of this habit…maybe…ahhhhh there I go again. Probably. Trying. Maybe. Probably.
Just do already, right?
This came up today, when I got an email confirming a performance date for my newly formed improv group and I had a mini internal panic. 10 months of training, 2 months of shows, rehearsals, feedback and the desire to perform improv which drives the whole thing, and the second it gets ‘real’ I’m – just for a second- considering jumping ship. Really, Sil? You pay how many dollars and spend how many hours and exert how much energy on something, to then start to find reasons to back out when its finally Go time?
I mean, I won’t ever actually quit. I’ll just wonder how people who are “better” or “worse” than me go on without a care in the world. I’ll do the show and secretly want to cry and then have a silent chuckle with myself when the half-hour slot flies by and I haven’t totally blown it.
I use to do this as a kid. I used to spend HOURS looking through magazines for costumes and making lists of props and placing pretend phone calls to pretend actors to prepare for the Big Show I was going to put on in my imaginary backyard theater. But I never, even at age 5, got to the show part. I really think I was more comfortable prepping than doing.
That’s a really bad quality, the prepping vs. doing. Unless you are in pre-production somewhere or something. Which, I guess, is worth making a note of for myself in future career-path terms.
But then I think that of course this is all a process, and the more I succeed the less I will fear. Or, at least, the less I will pay attention to the fear and more to the goal.
Or…maybe it’s the sad, gray, apocalyptic rain.
Courage, sacrifice, determination, commitment, toughness, heart, talent, guts. That’s what little girls are make of : never mind the sugar and spice!
That’s my girl! XOXOXOXO
Is it better to live in a city where a little bit of rain causes fury, or one where a little sun causes ecstasy? (Greetings from Seattle.)
I think we all have those moments in the run-up to public performance, whether it is a show, a lecture, or a launching. In a way, I think prep-work is all part of the fantasy. When you were five, you were playing make-believe, right up until your parents wanted to see your show- the audience suddenly made it real. Its still the same. In preparation we fantasize about the public exhibition, and we don’t really have to confront the possibility of failure at all until that moment.
It says a lot about your art, I think, that an audience is an essential ingredient, that the fantasy has to both end and come true in the immediate presence of judgement. If you paint, sculpt, or write, your work itself is created in that in-your-head, fantasy preparation phase, where no-one else has to be involved, and no-one can see what you’re doing. When the time comes to present your work, there is nothing else you can do- there is certain comfort there.
In practical terms, though, I think you know what you can do. Despite the rainy day topic at hand, your writing betrays your confidence. You’re not stepping into any unknowns when you go on stage- you’ve read your lessons. You know your talent. You know your beauty, too, despite similar protestations. I’ve watched you carry it. Performance is the presentation of a character you’ve already built. Maybe its not so different from writing, after all.