In fear and trembling and endless second-guessing
“work out your salvation with fear and trembling” – Philippians 2:12
Recently at a dinner party I hosted, a guest said to me, “You’re so cruel!”
I did a double-take, unable to figure out what I’d done to offend her. And why was she smiling?
Turned out she’d said, “You’re so cool!” but my subconscious was mad at me for pretending to be an extrovert.
I’ve learned that what people hear is almost entirely a reflection of years (or possibly generations) of trauma and training, and only marginally about what I actually said. It’s something I’m working through, the uncomfortable knowledge that when I say, “Here, let me help you,” others might hear, “You’ve failed,” or if I say, “That’s really good writing,” they might think I’m lying to be polite.
Being on the other side of this, recognizing that I too am constantly projecting my own fears and prejudices onto others, assuming that their minds work the same way mine does, is—sadly, not enough to make me stop doing it. I believe others see me the way I see myself—how can they not?
Which takes me to my most recent Netflix binge-fest: True Beauty. A live-action Korean drama based on the Webtoon, it is the story of a girl who is bullied for her looks until she discovers makeup. Then she becomes the most popular girl at her new school, where she gets caught in a love-triangle between two guys, one who knows her true face and one who doesn’t. This series really shouldn’t have made me cry or laugh as much as it did, never mind the binge-purchase of earrings because of a Han Seo-jun obsession.
Seriously, even his cartilages have personality and all men should wear earrings.
Anyway, my point is that while others might see me as successful (I have a book published! By Macmillan! It got great reviews!) I see myself reading articles about Second Book Syndrome, worrying that every agent and publisher will assume that if my first book didn’t immediately top the New York Times bestseller list my career is dead, and working up enough courage to ask people to read and review without sounding like a nag.
For instance, I found this in my drafts folder recently. Any guesses what it is?
In late 2018, I got the chance to meet and work with a famous YA author on a hush-hush project (sometimes projects don’t get greenlit, and so you work quietly and hope for the best). I wanted to send this author a copy of my own novel, which came out earlier that year, to ask for their review. It took me until making New Years’ Resolutions (see the date on the draft) to work up the nerve to write those six words. That’s as far as I got. The draft is still in my inbox. My book has no blurbs because I was too scared to ask.
Like any true child of the 80’s, these moments play out to a montage of “Don’t be fooled by the rocks that I got. I’m still, I’m still Jenny from the block.”
A few years ago, someone at work asked me if I liked Naomi Novik, “the author of Temeraire.” I looked at him squint-eyed. “You mean astolat, the fan fiction writer and co-founder of AO3? Or Naomi Novik, the game designer?” I ended up going to her Wikipedia page, where I’m astounded to see that her “Career” section begins with Temeraire. As if this interaction never happened:
If it took 15 years for AO3 and fan fiction to come into the mainstream, for someone as high-profile as Novik to own all aspects of herself, maybe I don’t need to be so hard on myself.
One day, my internal and external images of myself will come into harmony.
In the meantime, cartilage earrings.