We’re all scared of the things we don’t know about.

That’s natural. If you don’t know what’s coming your way, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that you’re going to feel apprehensive.

But sometimes we need to do things that scare us.

Because, in retrospect, they might turn out to be what is best for us.

Yesterday, I finally finished editing my book.

Oh, yeah, I wrote a book.

It’s taken me the better part of two years, but I’m finally, mostly, satisfied with it (no work is ever really finished). I’m drafting query letters as soon as this post goes up, and then I’m sending my work out into the world.

I’m terrified.

What if no one likes it? What if I’ve been kidding myself all these years, and I’m actually really awful at the only thing I thought I was any good at? What if I’ll be stuck like this for the rest of my life, putting my work and my self on the line and never ever hearing that sweet, elusive “yes?”

For the past three years, I’ve heard the word “no” so many times that it’s the only answer I’ve come to expect. And for quite some time, I let that get to me.

I didn’t write a word for months.

And until that point, I hadn’t stopped writing since I was fourteen years old and A Tale of Two Cities was the first book that ever made me cry and light the creative fire within me that I never thought would ever stop burning.

Well, it did. For a little while, anyway. I took no joy in anything. All I wanted to do was sleep and cry about how awful my job was and how no one would ever give me a chance to work in my field of choice.

And then one day I told that depressing little voice in my head to shut up and stop moping. It wouldn’t–it couldn’t–be like this forever.

So I picked up my pen again and got to work.

It hasn’t been easy. Some days it’s like pulling teeth to come up with anything that seems even remotely worth setting down on the page. And then other days it’s so good I lose track of how many hours I’ve been at it and how many ink stains I’ve yet again gotten all over my fingers. I’ve managed to work through several drafts of my book, and I even found the motivation to write a couple of short stories and a fan fiction or two (I’m not saying which fandoms, but for once I will toot my own horn and tell you that yes, my stories were pretty good, and fairly well received).

Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only person who hasn’t given up on my dream. Sure, I’ve had just as many doubts as other people who have expressed them. But if I’m anything, I’m stubborn. Oh boy, am I stubborn. And I’m not letting anything stop me anymore.

So yes, I’m afraid that all I’m going to get in return for my efforts, for putting myself out there, is a fat stack of rejection letters.

Or, worse, no reply at all.

But you know something?

I’m going for it anyway.

Because if you don’t try the things that scare you, if you don’t take that first step, nothing, not even something scary, will ever happen to you.

And that’s the most frightening thought of all.