Speaking of Fear

It feels weird to be not actively writing the book. Yesterday was my first day off from work that I didn't spend hours hunched over the keyboard, breathing the life of me into all those pages until my lungs felt sore and raw.

But it was a good day. I found a great book on self-publishing at the library, spent hours reading it till I felt the rush of information overload pressing on the insides of my temples. Before I knew it the sun had gone down and by dinner time I knew what a pica was and leading and "perfect bound" and 50# white offset bookstock. Knowledge really is power.

It makes me feel like I'm really going to be able to pull this off. There's still lots of rewriting left to do but the bulk of the task is done. I even think that there's every possibility that I can fulfill my goal of finishing the book and printing it by Christmas.

I did a little bit of looking into promoting myself at local bookstores, pride centers, recovery groups and Buddhist centers, too. That will be so exciting! To actually get out there and meet all the wonderful people who I want to read my book.

"Hey everybody," I'll say. "This is how I made it through. How did you do it?"

But, still, there is an underlying fear. What if I alienate people instead of making new friends? My story is anything but conventional. In the closet since I was twelve years old; total and complete denial for twenty four years after that; thirty six years old and almost over-the-hill before I could even utter the words: I am gay. In the mean time, two decades of drunk and high on speed and ecstasy and porn and crack cocaine. Two marriages to two women in hopes that no one would doubt my cover story.

Yes, I'm afraid. Afraid of being ridiculed. Afraid of "you don't know what you're talking about!". Afraid of anger and hate. Afraid of being accused of not being gay enough, or Buddhist enough, or committed to recovery enough (I didn't even go through twelve steps...).

I'm afraid that I've shared too much, that people will laugh at me because I talk about dressing up in women's clothes and wanting to be a girl. I'm afraid that my friends will take a long quiet look at me thinking: "That is way more than I wanted to know about you..."

Then I'm afraid that people won't even read the book at all, that somehow I haven't done my job, that it won't compel people or help them through their own struggles.

I'm afraid that even if people do read it they'll say:

"Jeez! Yeah, I watched Will and Grace. What was your problem?"

But you know what? I'm going to go ahead with putting this thing out there anyway. I'm going to lean into the fear and the discomfort and the uncertainty. Maybe I will fail. I don't care. All I care about is putting out the best piece of writing that I possibly can. It will be authentic, completely truthful and from the heart and that's all I can ask of myself right now.