What Sets You Free?

I’ve been thinking about courage, and how much it takes for us to do those big things I talked about in this post.  I don’t know about the rest of you, but I manage to find my courage because I know that no matter how many times I fail, there are certain people in my life who will be there anyway.

Those people have kept me going when I wanted to quit, and held my hand to prevent me from falling into the dark, black pit of doom. People who love me, and who I love. And that love—that’s the thing that gives me the freedom to search for more, push boundaries, travel new roads, and do other hard things.

That clichéd phrase about love setting you free? Not such a cliché, actually. Because in love, there’s a degree of freedom that you can’t get from anywhere else. Or, well, this is truth for me.

What about you? What sets you free?

The Race

I ran a 5K this past weekend. My third ever, if you count the Dirty Dash I ran the previous weekend (not sure it counts, as there wasn’t so much running involved—more just playing in the mud). And as much as I’d like to say I run fast and hard and have great endurance, I don’t. My time is never what others would consider great.


But the thing is, how fast I make it across that finish line is not what it’s about for me. In fact, I’m not sure I even care about crossing the finish line.

For me it’s about putting on my shoes and trying. Because if I never put on my running shoes, never step onto the track, never huff and puff and work through the hard parts—then I will absolutely never make it to the end.


Tomorrow it won’t matter who won the race, or who came in last, or who didn’t go the distance. What will matter is who had the courage to step onto the track in the first place, and where we ended up when the race was over.


Are you brave enough to jump into the race?

That Initial Leap—Right off a Cliff

Last weekend, I jumped off a cliff.

Yes, I’m serious. And no, I wasn’t pushed, unless by pushing you mean my kids counting down so my husband could snap the shutter while I was in the air.

Don’t worry. I landed in water. Clean, clear, warm water, and it felt fantastic once I was in it. The harder part was getting up the guts to bend my knees and take the initial leap.

Actually, it felt a little reminiscent of my journey as a writer. First, it was hard admitting to myself that I wanted to write—like, actual books. Then it was hard to finish that my beginner's crap manuscript, and later subject my work to critique, then to start submitting / querying.

Clicking send for the first time (and many, many times after that) felt highly similar to that dive I took the other day. Really, really scary when you’re on the cliff looking down, but highly incredible once it’s over and you’re in the water. Even if you know you’re going to have to swim to shore and climb up to take the leap again, once you’re there, a small body swimming around an enormous lake (or ocean), it feels absolutely incredible to know you’ve done a brave thing and survived.

What brave things have you done lately?

Out There With the Brave

At a recent restaurant in which a large number of authors had gathered, Jamie Harrington made a comment that got me thinking. She said, “I love how we’re all just so out-there.” And by we, she meant authors and other artistic-types.

She was sort-of referring to the rainbow of color represented in our many eclectic hairstyles, but also our styles of dress, our conversational topics, our ability to make friends with strangers who live far away. But mostly, I think her comment came down to her loving our bravery.

Later, at a book launch, author Don Carey asked some of us about our chosen styles and hair colors. He wasn’t asking because he believed there was some kind of rebellion behind it, but as research for his work in progress. Because of the nature of his question, I think he got better answers than most of us would otherwise have given.

I told him that for me, it comes to bravery. I AM brave enough to write a book. I AM brave enough to submit and be rejected over and over and over again. I AM brave enough to repeat this vicious cycle continuously until I find success. (Though, I really wish someone would PLEASE help end the insanity soon!)

And if I am brave enough to do all that, well. It isn’t such a stretch to realize that my style choices are a physical manifestation of the bravery I’m clinging to with everything I have. It never hurts to have a daily reminder that YES, I can do these hard things. YES, I can be brave. YES, I can take hard rejections. And also, NO, I won’t quit, however tempted I may be.

Crazy sounding? Yeah, I know. But that’s me.

What do you do to remind yourself to be brave?

The Thing About Bravery

After my recent realization about writers and cops being similar, I’ve been thinking more about bravery. What it is. What it means. What it requires. All that stuff.

The thing is, the definition of bravery is probably different for everyone alive. We all have strengths and weaknesses, and what comes easily for you might be a huge undertaking for me. But we all have moments, defining ones (tee hee), when we are required to be brave—more so than we’ve ever been before.

And we wonder if we’re up to it. If we can handle it. If we can do it.

Am I brave enough to write a book? Am I brave enough to color my hair purple? Am I brave enough to travel to Mexico during a time of civil unrest? Well yeah, obviously I am. But are you?

Am I brave enough to submit that book to 300 agents? (FYI, I’m not even close to that number yet.) OR brave enough to shelf a book that’s not perfect and move onto another one? (Which might be more likely.) Am I brave enough to jump in and pitch my books to an agent face-to-face? Am I brave enough to try scuba diving even though it sounds kind of scary? Am I brave enough to teach my fifteen-year-old how to drive in my Mustang?

Maybe. I’m trying.

Am I brave enough to stand in front of 10,000 people and sing The Star Spangled Banner? Or Happy Birthday? Or…anything? Probably not.

But I am brave. I can do hard things. Things I’ve never done before. Things I’ve never tried before. Things that sound out-of-my-league and impossible and just all-out scary. I am not afraid of living, of doing the things that will make me most happy in life.

I am far more afraid of not doing those things. Of not trying, not putting myself out there, not living.

The thing about bravery is that everyone needs it at some point. We all have it. But only you can decide when it’s time to pull it out and use it.

What brave thing have you done this week?