What are you so afraid of?

My daughter went through a phase where we'd watch Disney's "Frozen" several times a day. (thank heavens that phase has mostly passed!)  One of the lines in that movie that always got stuck in my head was when Anna asked her sister "What are you so afraid of?"  I've been contemplating this line the last few days as it became glaringly apparent to me that it's something I need to consider.

 Here's the problem, I am only 4 chapters away from the end of my book.  I have rough drafted, plot charted, character analyzed, first edited, and now I'm only 4 chapters away from my second edit being finished.  I promised myself that once I finished my second edit the time would come to start querying, that was three weeks ago.  Those four chapters are still un-second-edited.  Why?  I came to the realization when I was talking with a friend that the reason those chapters are sitting unedited is because I'm afraid.  I am A.F.R.A.I.D. but why?  Like Anna said "What are you so afraid of?"

I guess what it boils down to is I'm still holding onto the lingering insecurities of youth, what if no one likes it?  What if its not good enough, thereby I'm not good enough?  I'm afraid that this brain child that I have so lovingly held onto for so long will be completely dismantled.  Can I stand to see that happen?  Can I let 4+ years of work go into the big bad world and be beaten up?  Can I handle the rejection since I will inevitably be rejected several times?  ARGH!!!!  Why can't this just be easy?

So here I sit contemplating my own insecurities.  How do I overcome it?  Man I need to work on those four chapters...

Pet Project Part 2

There is more that happens before this but here is part 2 of what I'm willing to share:

The first day of school dawned way too soon and I made sure to wake up bright and early in order to look the best I could.  I had my cutest outfit set out the night before, my new makeup sitting on my dresser, and my curling iron hot and ready to curl my mop. I brushed my teeth then  jumped in the shower and ran through the usual routine.  When I got to the body wash part instead of coming out in a smooth coil like always, nothing hit my loofa. 

“What in the world?”  I put the bottle up to my eye and tried to peek into the small hole in the top.  I couldn’t see anything so I put a little pressure on the sides of the container, still nothing.  I squeezed it a little harder but still nothing.  I shook it hoping the contents would shift to the bottom I looked into the hole again this time the contents spilled out all over my hair, my face, and my neck.  I spit trying to get it off of my mouth.  I scrubbed furiously at my hair hoping to get the goop out but only managed to be remotely successful. 

There was a loud banging on the door, “Allison!  Allison!  Stop primping some of us need to get in there.”

“I’m almost done.”  I yelled.

“Not almost, you are done!  Get out now!”  I recognized it as Luke’s voice.

Grrrr….  Boys just don’t get it.  I took one last swoop at my hair hoping to get the last of the body wash out.  I wrapped my hair in a towel and threw on my bathrobe, I threw the door open angrily glaring at my brother on the other side.  “Some people need to learn patience.” I growled.

“Some people need to learn that no matter how much they shower they’ll still never get rid of that stench!” he stuck his tongue out at me.  “Besides, I’m the senior this year, I think I am the one who needs to look the best today.”  And with that he shut the door behind him. 

I huffed off to my room sitting at my makeshift makeup table and started the morning paint job; lotion, foundation, powder, blush, primer, eyeshadow, liner, mascara, and the most important step last lipgloss!!  I puckered up admiring the gorgeous shade of pink that I had managed to snag the previous day at the mall, it had been the last one on the shelf so I felt it had been a sign of my luck.  That feeling didn’t last long though when I pulled the towel off my head. 

“Oh my gosh!!!”  my hair sat in oily wisps on my shoulders, I ran my fingers through it hoping that maybe, just maybe, it was an optical illusion.  It wasn’t.  Putting my fingers in it only made it abundantly clear that the body wash had made my fresh clean hair an oily mess.  I grabbed the blow dryer and ran it over my head for a solid ten minutes all the while praying that it would only look a little greasy but to no avail.  The hair was bone dry and I looked like I had stuck my head into a fry vat at the local fast food joint. “You have got to be kidding me!” I looked up to the fates, “come on this is supposed to be my year!  Can I catch a break for just one day?”

Just as I was expressing my fury to the higher powers Luke walked by my open door wrapped in his own bathrobe. “Whoa!  What do you call that look, grease ball?” he laughed walking away. 

I cursed under my breath.   This couldn’t be happening again, I should have never tempted the fates this way.  I grabbed the curling iron wrapping a strand of hair around it but when I pulled it out nothing happened, the hair just fell limp and soggy at my shoulders, I cursed under my breath as I wrapped the iron around my hair again.  Surely if I kept the iron in there longer it would curl, I held it in twice as long as I normally would then started to smell something, a burning smell.  “Oh no!” I pulled the iron from my hair but it was too late, the ends of the hair were completely fried.  “Gawwwww!!!” I yowled.

“What’s the matter?” my mother rushed to the door poking her head in, “where’s the fire?” (a standard catch phrase for a mother with nine children.)

“My hair, the fire’s in my hair!” I held the strand out for her to see.  She walked over and held the burned hair in her hand. 

“Only one thing to do” she reached into my makeup table drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.

“No! No!  There has to be another way.”  I tried to back away from her.

“There isn’t.” and with that she snipped the end off leaving me with a butchered look. 

“My life is ruined.” I exhaled.