Take the Leap

Beginnings can be scary. Taking a leap into the unknown without a safety net can be paralyzing.

My fear of heights has kept me from skydiving—an exhilarating idea in theory but a terrifying reality when I picture myself standing at the edge of a plane, ready to jump. That’s one fear I may never overcome.

Similarly, this new administration frightens me with its dangerous agenda aligned with Project 2025. To combat this fear, I educate myself, share what I learn, and stand up for what I believe in. It’s all I can do, really.

Publishing my first novel brought another fear to the surface—realizing that others would be reading (and possibly judging) my work. When my book was nearly ready for release, I had an “Aha—” moment. But I had made a promise to myself when I signed my publishing contract: I would walk through my fears—judgment, disapproval, public speaking, reading my work aloud.

We all have fears. They’re a natural part of being human.

Recently, I rediscovered an old one: the fear of not being perfect. Intellectually, I know perfection is unattainable—perhaps even harmful to chase. I struggled with this after my parents’ divorce many years ago, but I thought I had worked through it. I had even learned to celebrate (or at least accept) my imperfections. Yet, as fears often do, this one resurfaced in a different form, catching me off guard.

I recently finished writing my third book.

Before becoming a published author, I had all the ideas for books one, two, and three either in my head or on paper. It was just a matter of refining and executing them. I accomplished what once seemed impossible—navigating the highs and lows of writing and querying, developing thicker skin, and becoming more determined. Now, here I am, a two-time published author. I haven’t made a bestseller list (yet!), but I’ve sold a decent number of books, received incredible feedback from readers and writers, and both books have won awards.

But when it came to book four, I hit a wall.

I bounced between multiple ideas, struggling to choose the right one. I brainstormed, wrote in different characters’ voices, and still—nothing felt right. Frustrated, I stepped away to gain perspective, something I often do when feeling stuck. That pause was crucial. It gave me the space to realize why I couldn’t commit: I was putting immense pressure on myself to pick the perfect idea.

Before being published, I wrote freely, without expectations. But now, I felt the weight of needing to top my last book. The next one had to be better. This fear—this loss of control over what the book should become—was paralyzing me. The moment I recognized this, I let go. I stopped dissecting every potential plot’s pros and cons. Instead, I gave myself permission to just sit down and write.

I chose the most recent idea that had sparked my interest, drawn in by an evocative title. And then, I began to type. 

Yes, beginnings can be scary—but they are also thrilling because they hold infinite possibilities. Take the leap; I promise you’ll be glad you did.