Writers, Expand Your Comfort Zone

My Jack Russell rescue, Ziggy, came to me a terrified, traumatized wreck. He was afraid of everything. No exaggeration — everything: the floor (he laid on the couch for weeks; I had to carry him from room to room), doorways, the ring of the phone, stairs, sidewalks, any movement above him. Gradually, gradually, he started to trust and to acclimate himself to the sounds and experiences of daily life. Gradually, he began to widen the tiny circle of his life. The first time he sniffed the ground was a momentous occasion, the first time he peed on a tree.

He is still frightened of paper. When I’m working at the computer in my office, he lays a few feet away from me on his pillow. He seems to be asleep. But if I pick up a piece of paper, he quickly rises and leaves the room.

Lately, I’ve been asking him to come back. I will slowly extend the piece of paper to him. I will softly tell him that it’s OK. He will stretch out his neck and sniff. He always seems surprised that he survives this interaction. But each time is easier. His curiosity wins out over fear. The circle of his life widens.

What does this have to do with writing? Everything. You know those writers who write the same novel over and over, who never venture into new territory, who are stuck in their ever-shrinking space?

It takes courage to move forward, to try something new. It isn’t necessary to rush into anything (although sometimes that works). It’s OK to inch forward, stretch out your neck, and slowly investigate new territory — to allow your curiosity to lead the way.

For this to work, you have to tell yourself that you have your back; you have to treat yourself like you’d treat a dear friend — encourage, support, give a little nudge.

And then go ahead and take a chance.