by Tracy Caldor in Cupoty Newsletter: Back in the 1980s I borrowed a Fighting Fantasy gamebook from the library. For anyone unfamiliar with the concept, these books made you the hero of the story. As you battled your way through knotted forests and dragon-filled skies you got to decide what happened next.
The idea appealed to me for two reasons: firstly, you were the master of your own destiny – if you didn’t like the way your adventure was shaping up, you could roll a dice and set off in a new direction. Secondly, there were multiple endings – if you didn’t fancy being gobbled up by an evil warlock you could go back a few pages and arrange a less gruesome fate.
The material was the same, but the shape of your adventure, and the success or failure of your quest, varied enormously. Unfortunately, I only made it through one gamebook – I’ve always hated surprises, so I felt compelled to run through every possible permutation (which took weeks). In all honesty, I’m not sure my mum could have afforded the library fine if I had attempted to read the whole series.
‘You were the master of your own destiny – if you didn’t like the way your adventure was shaping up, you could roll a dice and set off in a new direction’
My dalliance with The Forest of Doom might have been short-lived, but it taught me a valuable lesson: in the words of poet Antonio Machado, ‘Traveller, there is no path, the path is made by walking.’
When it comes to a creative life, we often kid ourselves that we need more knowledge or more resources before we can get started. I’ve lost count of the number of projects I’ve killed by telling myself I need more time, money, books, chocolate (not kidding) or skills before I can put pen to paper or launch a new workshop.
Of course, it’s all nonsense, it’s procrastination in disguise. But procrastination is driven by fear, which makes it a seriously sticky habit. The list of fears I face before starting a creative project is long and faintly ridiculous: fear that I have nothing new to say, fear that I will let my family or friends down, fear that I will die lonely and penniless (this is reserved for when I’m feeling dramatic). ‘Fear is a desolate boneyard where our dreams go to desiccate in the hot sun,’ writes Elizabeth Gilbert in Big Magic. ‘Everything is so goddamn scary.’
‘I’ve lost count of the number of projects I’ve killed by telling myself I need more time, money, books, chocolate (not kidding) or skills before I can put pen to paper’
But fear is just a reminder to take care. When we enter the dark wood, fear helps us to spot the dragons and warlocks and to act accordingly. Fear is not always a sign that we should turn back or abandon the path. Fear can sometimes be our guide.
‘No one starts a creative endeavour without a certain amount of fear,’ writes Twyla Tharp in The Creative Habit. ‘The key is to learn how to keep free-floating fears from paralyzing you before you’ve begun.’
To keep these free-floating fears in check, we need to pin them down and work out what they are trying to tell us. If you fear your creative pursuits will lead to financial ruin, for example, maybe you have fallen for the ‘starving artist’ myth. (If you’re looking for a cure for this, I highly recommend reading Jeff Goins’ book Real Artists Don’t Starve.)
Alternatively, if you fear you have nothing new to say, look at Homer, Shakespeare and Picasso – it sure as hell didn’t stop them. Maybe what we actually fear is cracking ourselves open and creating something raw and personal. After all, vulnerability is not a feeling we encourage or actively pursue.
‘Fear is not always a sign that you should turn back or abandon the path. Fear can sometimes be your guide’
Nothing becomes closer or clearer until we step onto the path. Until we take some sort of action, however small, we are stuck, and our dreams and goals remain distant.
According to the blurb for The Forest of Doom, ‘Only the foolhardy would risk an encounter with the unknown perils that lurk in the murky depths of Darkwood Forest,’ and yet armed with a pencil, two dice and an eraser, we set off anyway. Some of the fears we face will be real, others will be figments of our imagination. Either way, we keep moving.
As we follow the path, we realise that we are, in fact, making the path. As we travel, we learn, we adapt and we evolve. We make choices that shape our future and allow chance (the roll of a dice) to determine the rest. Our job is to step onto the path and remain true to ourselves.
‘Sunlight dances on the innumerable paths before me’, writes Meera Lee Patel in How it Feels to Find Yourself. ‘But it doesn’t matter which one I take. Eventually, each one leads back to me.’
