Sock Dog returned from her first hunting trip a few weeks ago. I cannot repeat in public Dear Hubby’s choice words over her performance. So, off she went to a different dog trainer.
Sock Dog, the almighty pheasant hunter, is afraid of the flush. She’s got a great nose, she’s enthusiastic and athletic. She’s everything a great hunting lab should be–except terrified of the birds when they flush from the tall grasses.
Ever get the feeling that writers are no different?
It’s like we’re bred to write, but we’re afraid of success. We hear the flutter of wings in the distance and drop back behind others. We allow fear (of success, of failure, of ourselves) to paralyze us and keep us from taking that next step.
Anyone else ever feel this way? How do you overcome the fear of the imagined and take the next step that will lead you to the very thing you’ve been dreaming of? How do you learn to delight in the flush regardless of whether or not you get the bird?
Curious minds want to know.