travel

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!

(3) The Magic Number

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

It’s three, we all know three is indeed the magic number, De La Soul told us so.  Indeed, some of us with a Pythonesque bent also know that the number of ‘the counting shall be three,’ not two, nor indeed four – three is indeed the number of choice!

So it goes too with my applications. 

I try to keep three plates spinning, irons in the fire, horses saddled or whatever your image of choice is – I try to keep it at three.

Some, I hear, follow the love bomb maxim, and opening the Writers & Artists Yearbook, they start at ‘A’ and ping away to all until they get to the end of ‘Z.’

As I have yet to find success with my method – I’m in no position to criticise anyone who follows an alternative – if it works, good for you.    

My approach is slow. 

Methodical, scrupulously catalogued and recorded, but slow.

My first application back in 2016 was a nervous affair.

I sent my pitch to one agent, just one agent and I waited, and I waited… eighty-two days later they replied with a very polite (and generic) NO.

I then went into a naval gazing tailspin of introspection and critical analysis as to why my agent of choice would say NO, I mean how could they, the project is pure brilliance…?

All scribblers must go through similar contractions, all must fight off the clinging monkey of self-doubt, all must then try and correct the imagined wrongs.

This I’ve been doing ever since.

Must be the pitch – change it.

Nope, it’s the one-page synopsis – rewrite it.

Is it the pithy biography?  Not too sure – change it.

Ah, it must be the opening pages, they don’t pull you in, the burn is too slow – major rewrite completed.

Admittedly the applications I ping off now are immeasurably better than version – and so they should be, but still despite the shots fired I’ve still to hit home.

Social media is littered with writers who tell of years upon years trying to succeed with their project only to be rejected/ignored time after time – yet they don’t give up, they eventually find success.

One yes is all it will take.

So, keeping the magic number at three and second guessing where each application fails, I will amend and adjust as I go.

Just one, it’s all I want, just one YES.

Stay safe – remain sane and always remind the ones that you love that you do indeed love them to the moon and back.

Brevity my dear boy, brevity.

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

Okay, this missive is different.

This offering a musing on life the universe and just how long should a book be – oh, and what other books is yours (Amy Grace: Payne) like?

That’s a lot to chew.

I remember at school learning the formula for minimising the metal area of a can and maximising the volume of liquid it could hold – all very useful for maximising profit.

Books it seems follow the same rules, all be it with easier maths.

Popular consensus sits as a good work of fiction sitting somewhere between 80,000 and 90,000 words.

Padding is allowed for Sci-Fi or Fantasy novels – to allow for world building, but it is accepted ONLY under duress.

Okay, them are the rules.

So, the above in mind, what books are yours like?

Hmmm.  Can’t be too pretentious, can’t offer anything obscure as nobody will get the reference, but at the same time if I compare with a known and successful book the accusation may be that I’m claiming some sort of equivalence beyond my proven abilities?

Good questions all.

Me, I’ve taken four books as reference, and I’ll briefly explain each as we go.

.  A Falcon Flies: Wilbur Smith (176,000 words).

This is a sweeping historic drama dealing with cruelties of slavery with a strong female lead – Dr Robyn Ballantyne.  We deal with dark subject matter AND a man writes with a female lead. 

.  The Alienist: Caleb Carr (152,000 words).

A good historic crime drama dealing with the unpalatable themes of child prostitution and murder.  Sold by the hundredweight – as repulsive as the theme was people read and enjoyed it.

.  The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo: Stieg Larsson (116,000 words).

A superb noir tale with an incredibly strong female lead.  We have rape, murder and torture – but still this book sold and sold and sold and sold…

.  The Clan of the Cave Bear: Jean M. Auel (123,000 words). 

A strong female protagonist who grows in self-reliance as the tale progresses.  An initial offering that spawned a whole series – one woman finding her way in the world. 

The keen eyed amongst you will have noted two things.

One – ALL the books come in over the (arbitrary) figure of 80-90,000 words, and ALL have very strong female characters. 

Is that a chip on his shoulder?

I think it’s a bee in his bonnet!

Amy Grace: Payne comes in at 130,000 words. 

It takes that many words, because that’s how many words it takes to tell the tale. 

I could trim it down like a blockbuster film being shown on terrestrial TV – but we all know that these versions are never as good as the cinema showing. 

To meet the 90,000-word upper limit I’d need to drop 40,000 words.

At 250 words a page, that’s some 160 pages! 

That’s nearly a third of the novel…

Yes, a good editor will help to improve the brevity, highlight any duplication – but 40,000 words?!?!

What to do, what to do…

The art is good – it is. 

The telling is good – it is.

The tale is at times dark – indeed it is.

There is no Disneyfication of suffering, no exploitation or trivialising of pain – there is instead honesty and heartfelt sympathy.

So, it seems I must continue to rage against the machine – continue to hope against hope that I can convince others of the merit of this told tale.

We can hope.

Down, but not out.

Hug those you love and keep them close – stay safe and remain sane!