I’m pretty confident on the outside. But on the inside, I’m pretty fearful.
I think psychologists call this scientific state, “being human.”
And when I’m afraid of something, I don’t just casually fear it. I go all in, marshaling every degree of creativity I possess as I dress up the monster hiding under the bed. (If you ever doubt you’re creative, just look at the exquisite colors and words you give your fears.)
When I face new decisions, like say writing a new book that I may have turned in a few weeks ago to the editor, I often feel like I am one mistake from being a hobo.