No More Fear
I’ve been terrible about keeping up with this blog. One thing leads to another it would seem and I put it off for another day. I will eventually get back to my genre dissection. For now, I’m going to discuss something that happened to me in a bit more detail and attempt to apply it as a writing lesson.
About a month ago I was at home, napping on the couch. I heard someone knock on the door a time or two, but I ignored it. I’ve had people harassing me for the past year by knocking on my door and fleeing, so I assumed it was more of the same.
As I was up from my nap anyway, I decided to make supper. So I turned on the lights, and started cooking. While the food was heating, I sat at my desk. That’s when I noticed some strange noises coming from the window in my bedroom. At that point in time we had roofers working on our apartments, so at first I assumed it was one of them. The noise stopped after a moment, so I didn’t investigate.
When the noise returned, followed by the crunch of breaking glass, I felt a sense of dread weigh down my body. As I carefully approached my bedroom window and opened the blinds I saw first the corner of the window broken through and then saw the perpetrator nonchalantly exiting my back gate.
Fear raced through me giving me a shock as if I’d touched an outlet with a wet finger. The first thing I did was grab my phone and dial 9-1-1. The second thing I did was grab the heavy duty flashlight that was sitting on my kitchen counter. After calling the police, who said they’d send someone over, I called the apartment manager and turned on every light in the house.
Trying to calm myself, I sat at my desk to wait for the police. I couldn’t sit long. I got up and began pacing and worrying. It took me a few moments to realize I was having a panic attack. Once I realized it, however, I was able to calm myself. To quote one of my favorite books, Dune by Frank Herbert, “Fear is the mind killer.” I was allowing fear to override my good senses and wandering around aimlessly, which was doing me no good.
When the police finally arrived it was to approach my back door first to inspect the damage. I was out of the bedroom, however, so my first thought, when I heard someone walking around back there, was that the burglar was back. Flashlight in hand, I looked into my room to see a policeman standing there. He made a calming motion, then stepped toward my back door. Fear still gripping me, I didn’t move until he stepped back in front of the window and motioned for me to open the door.
At first I was fairly shrill with worry as I spoke to him, but once I started talking I almost burst into tears. Reality had finally hit me. Someone had tried to break into my home. My home. The policeman was very professional, but kind, even when he told me not to get upset. He did what he could, drove around, took my statement, gave me information. And then he suggested something I wouldn’t have thought of; to brace the window that was broken with something. For some reason the unused shower rod in my closet and one of my giant tiger poster frames came to mind after only a moment’s thought. I usually am terrible at remember things.
And so once the officer left, I called my brother and then my father. I searched around on the net, looking for some place local that sells pepper spray. I eventually found a place, drove there and spent the entire time in the store staring wide-eyed around me and wondering just how I could ever trust any strangers ever again.
I almost slept with all of the lights on in the house that night. I didn’t, because I find I sleep poorly if the lights are on, but it was a near thing. And truly I don’t think anyone could blame me if I had for just that night.
The reaction of my apartment management was less than concerned when I called the next day. “Oh you need a window fixed because someone tried to break in? We’ll get someone over there when we have time.” Apparently they hadn’t received the message I left with them the night before. Nor did they know of the request when I stopped by after work that day. (Almost a month later they still haven’t fixed the security light outside of my front door.)
Obviously this situation was mild compared to what could have happened. I was lucky that the man trying to break in was a chicken in the end and didn’t want to get caught. I’ve heard stories of a few people who weren’t so lucky.
The reason I bring all of this up and attempt to describe how it felt, is because I’m going to attempt to use those emotions that I had when I work on my novels. Can a person truly write fear if they don’t experience it? I don’t think so. And while I’ve never felt terror, I can certainly guess at how it might feel now that I’ve had this experience.
I wanted to take something positive away from the experience because so often I take away only negative things. I’ve asked myself recently how I can possibly continue to call myself a writer if I allow things to stop me from writing. My answer was, I can’t. Which then led to me questioning why I’m allowing anything to stop me from doing something that I truly love to do. The answer was fear, just not the kind that makes your knees lock and your gut fill with moths.
If I can talk myself down from intense fear and anxiety, then I should be able to talk myself down from the fear of failing as a writer. And so, that is exactly what I’m doing by entering NaNoWriMo in November.
I also realized that pressure from an outside, impersonal source, to write works to keep me motivated. The 3-Day Novel Contest worked wonders for my productivity. Hopefully NaNoWriMo will as well.
And now I leave you with a poem that I wrote when I was in High School titled No More Fear. I’ve always been a fan of rainstorms, but I found the title and theme of the poem to be appropriate for this post. Enjoy.
No More Fear
by Heidi CautrellThe blazing light of the red sun shows,
Autumn leaves swirling gently in the breeze,
And tree branches dancing in the wind.
Rain suddenly lashes out at the world.The sky is pierced by nothing.
Darkness is absolute.
Then thunder booms and roars.
Lightening cracks like a whip.Rain beats upon roof tops.
Trees bow and beg for mercy.
Tall grasses bend and break,
Under the mighty power of the storm.The rain gives into the world.
Water gently trickles down the glass pane.
Wind sighs gently through the grass.
Trees groan as they raise their heavy branches.A slight piercing of the stars in the sky.
The silver moon, a circular cloud of mist.
The once angry black clouds, turned gray, float away.
A child sighs and has no more fear.
Tags: Commentary, Poetry
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