Humans share a handful of fundamental fears. The psychology of fear is complex enough that searching the internet for “fundamental human fears” will provide a million websites by a hundred thousand experts sharing a thousand lists of the true absolute definitive fundamental human fears.
These, though, show up consistently, right after fear of death and dismemberment:
- fear of rejection
- fear of shame
- fear of loss of control (sending our creative work out into the world to be eaten alive by critics, for instance)
You have these fears. No matter how well-adjusted you are, no matter your support network, self-esteem, accomplishments, social status, level of confidence, or anything else, you have these fears.
And just as you can’t choose not to feel the pain when you stub your toe or get punched in the head, you can’t simply choose not to feel the pain of rejection, shame, or loss of control.
Because they’re the same pain.
Let’s ask a UCLA professor of social psychology to weigh in, eh?
Continue reading “Why This Fear Matters to Us (Even if We Think it Doesn’t)”
Between our great idea, compelling and exciting, and writing it down, something happens.
Why there? Why aren’t we prevented from having the great idea in the first place?
Because thinking is imaginary.
Writing creates reality.
The reality, of course, of our own belief. Just as we see, hear, and feel with our brain, not our eyes, ears, or fingers, we don’t experience reality outside of ourselves, we experience inside our heads.
And our heads are very very good at knowing the difference between imaginary and real. Planning a crime we’ll never commit, in order to write a story, fires very different portions of our brain than, for instance, remembering the time we actually stole something from the five and dime.
An Experiment in Shame and Reality
Continue reading “Writing Creates Reality”
After finishing his latest fiction I’m rereading Stephen King’s On Writing which, although not precisely instructional, is the most inspiring book I’ve read when it comes to staying the course as a writer.
Last night this reminded me why:
“I was ashamed. I have spent a good many years since—too many, I think—being ashamed about what I write. I think I was forty before I realized that almost every writer of fiction and poetry who as ever published a line has been accused by someone of wasting his or her God-given talent.”
“. . . in my heart I stayed ashamed. I kept hearing Miss Hisler asking why I wanted to waste my talent, why I wanted to waste my time, why I wanted to write junk.”—from Stephen King’s On Writing p50
Have you ever done something, or thought something, you’re ashamed of?
Uncomfortable as it is, dredge up that memory. We’ll be using it for today’s exercise.
The purpose of our experiment is to demonstrate the effect on our conscious when we try to write something our unconscious doesn’t want written.
Find a place you feel safe. Sit by the fire, if you can, or if that’s not possible, have a shredder under your desk. You’ll want access to methods of rapid complete destruction.
Are you sitting uncomfortably? Good. Let’s begin.
Continue reading “Macabre Dance with Your Unconscious”