A writer’s fears

A few days ago, a local journalist hit the streets to ask folks about their fears. It got me thinking about my own fears – what do I fear?

Well, a number of things.

I fear the dark, the climate change, somebody attacking me, I fear rapists, driving over somebody, or that people will laugh at me. I fear the spiny plumage of pineapples. I fear death, illness, horses, large pigs, and inexplicable noises when I’m alone in a big house. I fear that I’ll be alone for the rest of my life. I fear the fall of civilisation. I fear that one day I’ll accidentally cut off my fingers with scissors.

Yes, I fear a fair few things. But what do I fear as a writer?

Well, to start with, I fear that I’ll never write anything good. (Yes, I fear it even though I know that I’ve already written something good. Fears aren’t rational.) I also fear that all of my writing sucks on some fundamentally inescapable level. I fear that all of my writing is boring, that I’m boring, and that I and my writing don’t have the right to exist. I fear that I won’t ever get published. I fear that when I do get published, nobody will read my works or like them. I fear that once I’m published, everybody will soon forget all about me, and I’ll never get a second chance.

What else? I’m afraid that somebody will write exactly what I’m writing at the moment, but do it infinitely better. I’m afraid that people will read my works and tell me I suck and should never write again. I’m even more afraid that people will read my works and tell me I’m mediocre. I’m afraid that nobody will read my works ever.

That about sums it up for now. Some repetition there, I’m sure. But I’m wondering – do all writers fear these things? And if not, what do they fear?

Are you a writer? Please, tell me about your fears.