Facing my Fear of Monsters

After finding the courage to tackle my fear of death and drive the final stake keystrokes into the heart of my very first book, I took my leftover courage and glanced across the yard at the little monster tied up by the shed, waiting for me.

I'd left him totally discouraged. He obeyed every command. He was appropriately mean, scary, snarling and drooling. When I looked over he kind of growled at me from the corner and then went back to sleep. Just like I taught him. I had what I wanted-- a monster WIP that was under control, manageable despite his size and something I totally understood.

But I pursed my lips and my new courage stirred in my chest. My monster was all sorts of wrong.

In controlling him, I'd taken away anything that was interesting. Out of my fear of letting him get to big, I'd starved him to skin and bones.

I had to let him loose. He needed to forage in the wilderness, get his monster groove back and return to stalk my yard with his temperament totally his own.
I needed him to be big and powerful. I needed to wrestle with him on the verge of my limits, using all my skill to bring him into a compromise of submission. I needed to always be fearful he would run away from me to return to his wilderness home. I needed to discipline without breaking his spirit. Oh no wait. That last part is about my three-year-old. My bad.

So today, I got the courage to walk over there and unchain him. He's rolling in the grass right now. I hope he strays from my clearly cut path. I hope he wanders into parts of the dark wood I'm afraid to go.
I hope I have the courage to follow.

Source: piccsy.com via Fer on Pinterest

I love having a blog. Where else can I write extended, crappy metaphors for my writing life? Nowhere else I tell you. NOWHERE ELSE. Because in real life, no one wants to listen to this kind of dribble. But on the internet, the "audience" is inherent.