It's time. I've been putting this off forever, but it's time.
Yesterday this tweet appeared my stream: "Fear is a clue that you're getting close to doing something important." – Seth Godin. I've never read anything by Godin, but did watch one of his TED talks. He's a smart guy, but I'm not the kind of person who follows people like that. I tend to pick up things here and there and use my own experiences to think through things. But this particular quote reminded me of something I used to hear in early sobriety, "Fear is the opposite of faith." Sure, you can chop this up into little semantic chunks to disprove the statement, but the fact is, to me – fear *is* the opposite of faith.
I have no fear. Usually. My faith is knowing that as long as I'm following my heart (conscience) and being honest with people (including myself) that everything always works out the way it's supposed to. And this isn't some self-affirmation thing – I've actually lived it. And having these direct reference points helps me endure those times in life when it seems like everything's falling apart. That said, nobody's perfect. I fail at faith almost daily. Most of the time, however, I'm able to look over my shoulder to a point in life when things were worse, and get past the little pockets of fear that emerge. And things work out.
But this is different.
I've been writing my whole life. When I was a child I wrote stories and maintained ideas that shocked my mother into thinking I had psychological problems. I was even hospitalized at one point. They cut my hair and put small nodes into my scalp to measure my thinking. After a few days, the only thing they could tell her was that I was stressed. But what they didn't tell her was that I was stressed because of my innate ability to feel deeply about things. We lived in a Navy town during the Vietnam war and death was everywhere – on the news, in the neighborhood. Everywhere. But we were southern, and didn't talk about things that really mattered. It's best to leave the big things alone to fester in the corner of the room. But not me. In an attempt to empathize with how people around me were feeling, I used to create scenarios in my mind (and in writing) that my own family would die in various ways. These tactics would drive me to tears – and created a deep sense of empathy in me that I've carried my whole life. The doctors missed this.
And empathy is what makes me a really good advertising copywriter. I've realized that when you can get people to feel things, they tend to pay attention – and act favorably. When Hemingway said that writing is easy, and that all you have to do is "sit in front of the typewriter and bleed" – he was right. After being fired from two agency gigs because I was either a hothead or non-social, I started my own agency. It's never become big. That's because you really have to want to be big to be big. So I've carved out a small place in the advertising world doing what comes naturally, and yes, doing something I love – moving people. Sure, I'm selling product and services for companies, but it's still work. And when you have kids, you must pay bills. But deep inside I've always wondered if there was something else I'm supposed to do with my skill. Something more than helping rich people get richer.
I've lived a pretty colorful life. No, I've not traversed famous mountains, or hitchhiked across Europe. I left home at 16, went to five high schools and joined the Air Force. After that, I was a nomad with no home or money or friends for about 5 years until I ended up in Port Authority New York City. Then I came to. I didn't say my life was amazing – just colorful. The path less traveled and all that. Danger, stupidity, loneliness, fear, failure, faith and triumph. I've had more lovers than I can remember, and even more jobs. In the grand scheme of things, these are but small and insignificant events of a normal life.
My personal experiences combined with an ability to feel deeply about things make me an effective communicator. And until now, I've only ever used this skill to write advertising. But this isn't the best economy to thrive in. Especially for someone who is a writer first, and businessperson second. Could I throw myself into my work and force things so that we never have to think about money again? Sure. Am I taking steps necessary to keep a roof over our heads? Yes. Am I shifting the core value proposition of my agency to keep up with how people communicate? Obviously. But I have enough personal reference points to know that every fucking thing in life happens for a reason. As Coleridge said, "Nothing is insignificant." Things are slow now for a reason. No, I don't expect to get rich from writing anything. I'm not an idiot. But I'll never know if I'm really supposed to do something different with my writing if I don't try.
So now I'm standing at the open door of the plane, with a lifetime of training packed tightly into a bundle strapped on my back. The fear is overwhelming. It's so easy to do the safe thing and buckle back into my seat. "What's wrong Jim?" The guy with the goggles shouts above the prop noise. I pretend not to hear him. He walks over to me, "Jim – you're ready. This is it. There are no second chances." I look up at him. I'm trembling. He extends an encouraging hand.
Either I do this, or not. It has to be acknowledged and attacked so that things can sort themselves out. Only then can I move past it. Regrets suck.
Jim is a father, husband, copywriter and owner of smashcommunications. He's also scared shitless about stepping off and free falling for a while.
John Kochmanski
Jan 27, 2010
Bravo.
I took the leap from agency life about 8 years ago for different reasons. Totally burnt and feeling empty, I wondered and experimented while putting food on the table by freelancing.
About 5 years past, feeling refreshed and ready to kick butt, I re-entered agency life. Do I regret it? At times, but for the most part no.
So, what I am trying to say is… you can always leap and return to what’s familiar to get ready for your next jump.
Let me know if there is anything I can do to push you out the door. Umm, I mean help.
Molly Cantrell-Kraig
Jan 27, 2010
Faith isn’t faith without action. …and that’s not just “faith without works is dead,” per se.
You have to life your creed and have the guts to let you come out. Faith doesn’t exist in the theoretical.
Faith exists in the practical.
It’s Indy Jones & the Holy Grail. Step across the chasm, and you’ll see in hindsight that the bridge was always there. Within.
You are, again, the shiz.
Andrea
Jan 27, 2010
I’ve been thinking about this a lot in my life as well, Jim. I’ve been working on my own now for 7 years. I just don’t feel the motivation I used to and am questioning where everything is headed. I often feel like a I’m in a boat without a rudder and I can’t spot land. I miss being electrified by what I do. But, I do know they I won’t find what’s next by waiting for it to come to me. It’s up to each of us as individuals to figure it out.
Good luck to you and your future. Although I know you only virtually and not for very long, I sense you are a really intelligent, creative and thoughtful person. And, most importantly, you seem like a really decent human being. Think about the second (and third) chances at life you’ve been given. You are here for a reason that I don’t think you’ve fully figured out yet…but I’m looking forward to your journey.
Mjjaaska
Jan 27, 2010
That literally gave me chills at the end. What an inspiration.
Melissa
Jan 27, 2010
Love this post, and I think many creative-minded people can relate. I know for me, blogging doesn’t put food on the table, but it makes me happy. Fortunately I have a job that I love that gives me a lot of freedom and sparks my creativity, but not everyone is so fortunate. I think if you’re feeling the urge, and it sounds like you’ve been pondering this for a while … you’re ready. Go with your gut; it rarely lies. You have a voice; don’t be afraid to use it.
Treypennington
Jan 28, 2010
What an apt metaphor—jumping out of a plane, free-falling to destiny.
Feeling what others feel does make for better writing, doesn’t it. Keep feeling. Keep writing. Pull the ripcord when necessary.
Trey Pennington
StacyHurt
Jan 28, 2010
I love the metaphor too. I agree it’s so hard to live in faith & that faith has nothing to do with religion. Thank you for such inspiring words! Can’t wait to read that first book!!! (or whatever it is that you’ll be writing, I’m sure it will be grand!)
Jeanne Veillette Bowerman
Jan 30, 2010
I jumped off that same plane last week. I am officially phasing out of my sales job and pursuing writing full time. Crazy? Hell, no. This economy is disastrous, and not even the most amazing pimp salesperson can help someone get a bank loan to open a new business. I was dying. I opened my 1099, having worked my ass off and solely on commission. The number made me want to puke. I was killing myself, spending hour after hour on clients. All time spend away from my writing… from my dreams. I felt like a underpaid whore.
Jim, take my hand and jump.
twitter.com/booksbelow
Jan 30, 2010
Really open, heart-felt piece. I like how you leave kind of mysterious what you’re jumping into, besides it’s being writing. I hope it’s the Great American Novel. Now that Salinger’s gone, we need a new literary lion! Go for it Jim, as others have said in the comments, at worst you always have your hard-earned skills as a fall back.
[email protected]
Feb 3, 2010
Loved your piece Jim. I’m writing my first novel and you inspired me. I’m sitting at my desk screaming on the inside…”If Jim can jump out of the damn plane, then I can finish my book dammit!” So Thank you Jumper, I mean Jim. Big Hugs!
Dexter Payne
Feb 24, 2010
Bravo Jim – you will do great work! And, your years of business acumen will serve you when you go to market the work you love. Right brain PLUS left brain always wins! A good friend started a writing career from her sickbed – published on the first try! Another who jumped from IT tech to music observed what a difference it makes to put your daily energy into heart’s work, rather than spending your work day with your heart in reserve. Follow it! When you get to the corner, lights turn green. I jumped while the plane was still on the runway – bit of a tumble but held my own ground since. Worth it!
My novel – Minor King
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