life

Atychiphobia – Fear of Failure

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

We all to a greater or lesser degree indulge in a version of this phobia – and why wouldn’t we, it keeps us safe. 

We don’t jump from tall buildings, wrestle giants, or speak our mind in public because of this phobia. 

Okay not the best or most relevant examples, but a fear of falling short, of being beaten in public or sounding stupid halts a great many of us from trying – and it shouldn’t (sensible caveats notwithstanding).

We hold back, and then because we’ve lived so long with our passion on hold, we tend to mutter something along the lines of ‘our time has passed’ or ‘oh, well possibly not for us’. 

Life just being itself gets the blame for many a timid soul.

Now I may fail, I may indeed fall with all the grace of a middle-aged man tumbling down the side of a mountain (I tend to do that), or indeed maybe I won’t.

Option B can never come to fruition unless I give it a go

Nobody knows me, I am an anonymous soul in the ether of the web, and any shortcomings will pass without as much of a ripple of acknowledgement – I have no public to please.

So, any embarrassment will only ever be mine to publicise. 

To say I have no fear would be a lie, I do.  But I’m willing to live with it to see just what happens now that I’ve jumped off the diving board. 

In October 2017 I wrote this –

You climb to the top, drag your body up the millions of vertigo inducing steps, to stand looking down at the tiny chlorine filled puddle of water – now what? 

You want to jump, you really do. 

Yet, fear of so many things keeps you firmly away from the edge. 

You swing your arms back and forth, rocking from left foot to right, trying to create momentum to take you forward to the concrete edge, past it, and into the abyss of the known unknown.  

But, despite all the deep breathing, arm swinging, foot swapping, you are as far from the edge as you’ve ever been. 

Friends, confidants, little sayings on calendars, they all tell you to do it, that you’ll be okay – that you should jump.

Ignoring your passion is slow suicide!

Burying your talents in a field for fear of failure – you can recall a parable about that; you are sure you can…

Swinging arms, hopping feet, deep breathing…

You ask for signs, look for totems of assurances from the gods, from karma, the cosmos; then you seek second opinions, validation of the first sign, and the second – maybe you should just make sure, to be sure, after all what if you are wrong, what if you fail?!?! 

Swinging arms, hopping feet, deep breathing…

You know it’s not the critic that counts, that it is all about the doer of the deeds, you love that Roosevelt ‘Man in the Arena’ quote, yet…

If you never jump…  well, you know how that plays out. 

Swinging arms, hopping feet, deep breathing…

You are currently living the foot hopping life – you’ve always been living the left right foot hop. 

So, why do you want to jump, what is it you are looking for, what are you trying to achieve?

It can’t be fame or fortune, they are transient whims so easily lost, if you are to gamble what is it you are trying to win? 

And, despite your lifelong love of words you cannot dig from your lexicon words to articulate the hunger, the need, the primal desire to jump. 

Yet fear is easy to describe, swinging arms, hopping feet, deep breathing…

And then…

You fall forward, legs almost buckling under your weight, the concrete disappears, and the air rushes past your body as you plummet downwards.

But you are not falling, you are flying.  Flying down towards your fear, towards your dream.

Chlorine smells strong, the water warm, the splash painful, the joy exhilarating, the euphoria of jumping intoxicating.

You are climbing before the water has fallen from your body, jumping again and again, the thrill never diminishing, never changing from one jump to the next.

You don’t need validation, witnesses, scores held on cards above heads – your glory is personal, maybe shared with friends, but held next to a pumping heart, not a cold and timid soul who knows neither victory or defeat!

Love the ones you are with – stay safe and sane!

Paused, nothing more.

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

You can hear the tears as they fall, they fall, and they scream their accusations as they do so.

Abandonment is cruel.

They did no wrong, and still you walked away.

Nobody made you do it, you did it because it was the easy option, it was easier than perseverance, so you took the easy way out.

Characters abandoned, their stories, their trials and tribulations cast asunder for the option of zero effort. 

Innocence for them, guilt, immeasurable and indisputable guilt at your feet.

You knew all this would come to pass, and still you did it, you gave in.

It’s easier to walk away than to fall, but it is an easy option, a thieving option that forever takes away your chance to ever stand.

Perseverance and self-belief abandoned.

The monkey of doubt given fall reign, your pride a sulking drunk in the shadows complaining of what he could have been, what almost was…

Some throw coppers, most look away.

It is painful for them to see what they too could so easily be.

Fear of contagion averts many an eye.

How did we come to wallow in this mire?

What cut was too deep?

One thousand cuts, a million stings from bees, no single event terminal, but a culmination of all beyond debilitating.

And that was it.

Too many, too often and you drowned.

But it never happened, they’re just words, just musings, just thoughts typed out on a screen about what may have been…

A subliminal waning – maybe.

It was never going to be easy, the path broken and steep, the trips slips and falls multiple.

They’re not alive, but they are.

If you cut them, they bleed.

They are just not known and that’s not the same.

You can fix the latter, you must fix the latter, this is your quest.

Routes are changed, direction altered, destination forever true.

Preferences are luxuries nothing more.

The key is to be read, and that hasn’t changed.

To be judged on my works I must first offer up such – and this we will do.

Call it a detour, call it what you will, but never belittle it.

The strategy has adapted; it has evolved.

The passion still burns bright; the desire is still there.

It’s only a delay, a deferral nothing more.

Amy is coming.

You will get the chance to read her adventures and to share her journey – you will.

Pausing for breath, but definitely not stopping!

Stay safe – remain sane and as ever remind those you love that indeed you do.

Push Push Struggle Struggle aka The Indifference Engine.

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

And so, it goes ever onwards.

You write the book, clap yourself on the back, and then instead of cherubs scattering rose petals at your feet and heavenly hosts singing your praises, it all kinda goes pear shaped…

It turns out that all they warned you about is true, they weren’t ghost stories, they are cold hard facts that have zero consideration for your artistic sensibilities – your feelings be dammed!

It’s hard, its cold, and it is indeed true – the cosmos doesn’t care how much blood sweat and tears you’ve invested in your scribbles – not a flicker is recorded.

And those who backslapped and cheered by your side as you wrote your opus – conspicuous by their absence indeed they all are for the next stage.

Its lonely.   

What so dominates your life isn’t even a mere ripple in theirs.

Get used to it.

The cliché it seems isn’t one.

Writing was indeed the easy bit – so if you cried doing that bit, strap yourself in the rest of the ride is wilder than a wild thing and it follows no rules, has no constricting factors, it goes where it pleases, and what pleases it is mostly your pain. 

It’s not that your book is or indeed isn’t well written – again the cosmos doesn’t care – utter tripe will sell by the hundred weight, and literary genius will die in obscurity – it isn’t fair, but it is how it works – accept or die frustratedly and futilely screaming into the void that will never answer back.

The game is rigged against you, the dice most assuredly are loaded in favour of the house, and unless you are a media accredited celebrity you are indeed going to have to put in the hard yards.

Acceptance of this reality isn’t a complaint; it is just a realisation of the uphill struggle that is now.

The deposit on the castle in Scotland hasn’t happened just yet – we’ve a few more hurdles to go before we become the living embodiment of a Halmark film. 

We reserve the right to occasionally feel somewhat down, to at times scream our frustration into the afore mentioned uncaring void – we must vent, for if we don’t, we will explode with all the pressure.

Fall seven, stand eight.

Resilience is lubricated by tears.

Ever onwards, chin into the wind.

Stay safe, hug those you love – remind them whenever you can and do you very best to stay sane!

Polite Society.

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

Things you do, things indeed you don’t do, and discussing politics it seems is one of those things.

I think we are the poorer for it, especially writers.

Stories are the near obvious vehicle for commentary, for exploring narratives, and yet it seems that this is now a taboo.  Sexuality and relationships are fine – violence never in question, but the ‘P’ word – nope, never never never. 

Where have all the angry young men, those Young Turks, the social commentators, the satirists, and holders of mirrors to society faults failures and darker traits gone? 

What has become of those writers of dystopian social commentary?   

Does the burning of information, the destruction of yesterday’s knowledge in ‘Fahrenheit 451’ still resonate – do we still grimace at the thought of those ‘Firemen’?

Can we see the alienation and inherent loneliness of perpetual self-indulgence in ‘A Brave New World’?  

Is ‘1984’, still the clarion call for freedom and the warning of the abuse of power, is it still read as a horror story and warning to us all – or is it just no longer read, instead reduced to a glib reference?

I’m NOT saying that you must discuss the human condition through a prism of political debate in your writing, but it would be nice if a few more did.

I just feel somewhat adrift from a world that seems to see political discourse as the only social taboo worth obeying.

Is it the fault/failing of social media, is it the fear of a pile on and cancel culture if you mock, deride or merely allow daylight to fall onto modern absurdities?

My woe is for the self-censoring of an art form, an expressive outlet for which any creative restriction is the very antithesis of telling compelling/challenging/interesting stories.

While I weep, while I weep…

Maybe I should tubthump a manifesto novel – maybe I should, maybe I will.

Side profile picture to the world, chin up, hand on lapel, distant and determined look in my eyes…

Hug those you love, stay safe, and try your best to remain sane!  

Time and Tide (Happy Talk)

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

It hits us all, one day we realise that we are indeed ‘old.’

I know that ‘old’ is of course a relative concept – when I was six or seven, being ten or twelve was ‘old’, or indeed when I was in my teens anyone in their thirties was just too old to exist in decent society – Logans Run take a bow!

Now though, I am, I think, by most objective measures (almost) old.

I’m blessed to have made it this far – hitting your late fifties is a milestone that tragically alludes many a person. 

They say that a good life is measured by how many tall tales you could tell when sat around a campfire – and indeed there is truth to that thought.

Life isn’t about the things you didn’t do; it is about those great adventures you had while trying – maybe it was successful, maybe it wasn’t – but wasn’t the ride a pure adrenaline rush – oh and look at these scars!!

I’m not advocating for a pure hedonistic self-centred approach, but I am mindful of a speech I have on my study wall –

“It is not the critic who counts, not the one who points out how the strong man stumbled or how the doer of deeds might have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred with sweat and dust and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

The theme of this speech by Theodore Roosevelt echoes in many of my musings – especially the call not to be sat with ‘those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.’ 

Life, responsibilities, opportunity, health, a myriad of things including and never forgetting cold hard cash impact aspiration and often impede actualisation – but as Teddy says, it is the striving that counts.  It is the intent and moves within whatever limitations you have to deliver your dreams – that is what counts, that is what is important.

This isn’t a manifesto for excuses, for letting things slide – if only…

This is the honest pragmatism that sometimes dictates that dreams of your youth may take longer to deliver than you hoped – but you persevered.

Old indeed you may be now, a greybeard silverback – but the fire is still burning, the desire to complete your quest still your focus.  The bones may indeed creak, the body is slower to deliver, the mind occasionally absent minded, but the direction of travel remains true.

This is my quest to follow that star

No matter how hopeless, no matter how far

To fight for the right without question or pause

To be willing to march into Hell for a heavenly cause

And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest

That my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this

That one man, scorned and covered with scars

Still strove with his last ounce of courage

To reach the unreachable star

Two quotes, one from a president of the United States, and one the lyrics from a musical – do they compliment what I’m trying to express – I hope so.

I think we must always be mindful of our achievements thus far in life, but we must always keep an eye on those things we’ve yet to do.

Time is passing, the grains of sand are running out and tomorrow is only ever a promise.

I wanted to write a book, to see if I could, and that I have achieved.

Now I have a book, a tall tale that I want to release into the wild – to let it run free to have its own adventures.

Maybe it will get four stars, maybe only one – but it will be out there, and as we throw another log onto the fire, I can regale you with the trials, tribulations, successes, and failures of a man who dared to dream…

Hug those you love, hug them, and tell them that you love them.

Stay safe, remain sane, and follow your dreams!

If you don’t talk happy,

And you never have dream,

Then you’ll never have a dream come true!

Pavlov’s dog goes to Vegas.

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

That little icon, it’s so inviting, just one last hit for old times’ sake, just one trip round the world, you can control it, you know what you’re doing…

DELETE.

It’s almost an involuntary action, open your phone, click on icon of choice, dribble down chin, become angry/frustrated at the world, loose two and a half hours and have nothing to show for it afterwards.  You don’t feel better, you’re not better informed on world events, you’re not better by any objective measure.

So, you haven’t’ picked up your phone, it’s not ringing so why are you looking at it?

The realisation that your phone isn’t a vital appendage is groundbreaking and liberating.  If someone wants to talk to me it will ping or ring, if it’s silent then leave it alone – do something else!

We’ve been reading – oh the joy, the remembered pleasure of the written world taking you on an adventure.  Currently I’m in Belfast witnessing the battle between a recurring evil and a young woman trying to stop this serial killer – and it’s good.

I’m also when not reading, typing away – purging my own imagination.

The latest missive started as an opening line.  A man sitting on a pavement café in Sardinia, who is just watching the end of a day:

So little liquid, so much potential compressed into it.  It had gone cold, but he still sipped absentmindedly at his expresso.  People came; people went.  Life’s rich tapestry was a slowly changing tableau to his front. He watched but seemed to follow little.  He should have been paying rapt attention, but he wasn’t.   He was a middle-aged man in a nondescript jacket and open neck shirt sitting in a Sardinian pavement café drinking coffee.  He was sat alone, which for this café was unusual, he also had no open laptop, newspaper, or mobile phone competing for his attention, and that if noticed would have struck any viewer as strange. 

But nobody appeared to paying attention to anything.  Everything was slow, mañana personified.  The sun was lazily sinking into the sea, the fishing boats half-heartedly bobbing with the lackadaisical tide, even the evening breeze moved with all the speed of a sulking teenager… 

And good bad or indifferent this little section of prose helped pull me from the abyss that took two and a half hours of my life every day. 

I’m a pantster by trade and I’ve literally no idea where this tale is going, except it is going to Vegas because that town has always fascinated me.

Lots of tall tales have migrated towards Vegas, and HIM is no different.  We don’t know who he is, or indeed why THEY are after him, and importantly neither does he. 

HIM is my post social media project.  A dalliance into writing a short (10,000) word story.  So far, it’s working.

Oh, the tale we are weaving and the fun we are having – Intrigue, murder and a kind-hearted prostitute who doesn’t want or need rescuing.  

So, point of this missive.

Time is the stuff of life, you only have so many breaths/heartbeats etc.  You can spend two and a half hours every day doing something you don’t really enjoy, or you can delete the app and do something else. 

As a child (age spoiler) I remember a TV show imaginatively called – Wdyjsoytsagadslbi?: Why don’t you just switch off your television set and go and do something less boring instead?

Maybe the folk in the late 1970’s weren’t too far off the mark?

Stay safe, remain sane AND Wdyjsoytsagadslbi?

#176.

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

Walk away, just walk away, don’t look back, never look back.

Social media, it’s a blessing, it’s a key to the great beyond, it’s potentially wonderful, but it is terribly destructive too.

The algorithm picks things for you to see, things it thinks you’ll like, and slowly but surely an echo chamber is created. 

Not just an echo chamber of things you like, but things it thinks you’ll react to.     

Save your sanity and walk away.

Negative comments and stories of sorrow woe and cruelty dominate, and you become the world you read.

You know you’re in control; no collection of ones and zeros is going to dictate your mood – but it does. 

It is pervasive and it is unrelenting – it is all of that, until you just turn it off and walk away.

Two and a half hours a day the average person spends on social media – two and half hours EVERY day!!!

Imagine if you looked at your calendar and saw two and a half hours EVERY day blocked out to read things you didn’t want to read – EVERY day, two and a half hours every day, what have we done to ourselves???

Social media truly is the SOMA of our generation, the true opiate of the masses, and I really need to go cold turkey. 

The plus, my sanity aside, is that time spent scrolling is now spent writing, is now spent reading, and I feel so much better for it – I genuinely do.

It’s not an airport, so your departure needn’t be announced, yet here we are …

Maybe I’ll go back, maybe at some point over the horizon I’ll revisit, but not just yet, it’s too much of a cesspit of sadness – it is the piss-stained wet blanket that smothers/suffocates the entire world.

For now, this is it, this is the only voice into the wilderness that I have.

So, drop by and say hello, or just have a read and mosey on past.

Stay safe, stay sane!