Jeff Goins is a blogger and author I have been following for a couple of years now. At first, he was raw, new, untested and inexperienced. But that didn’t stop him, so I didn’t stop watching. Inevitably, he began succeeding, which is a huge lesson for anyone. The only way to fail, is to quit, or not even begin.

Fear is usually at the basis for quitting or not beginning and here is a recent, brilliant article about fear.

Someday, if I keep at this, I, too, will become really good at writing, blogging and living the life I always knew I could. Fear and many other responsibilities have kept me from it until a few years ago. Nothing will stop me now that I know the secret to success.

In the mean time I will continue to put myself out there, fail, get back up, learn something from my failure, and try something new. Learning is the key. Trying and failing does not guarantee success later. You have to learn why you failed, then figure out a different way to succeed. Jeff is a great resource for learning something outside your current knowledge base, which is usually the best place to look for information on how to get better. If your best efforts result in failure, you need to learn something you don’t already know. Find your treasured resources, read, listen, and try something new. Keep trying, failing, learning and trying again until you do succeed. I know this sounds pretty basic, but fear is a pretty complex subject that requires this very simple principle to overcome.

So how do you know when your book is finished?

Great question.

“No work of art is ever finished, just abandoned.” Leonardo Da Vinci

I, for one, really understand what he means. You probably do too or you would have just skipped this post.

At some point an artist has to abandon his current work and get started on the next one, or there will never be a next one, just as the current one will never be either. If you don’t “Ship,” you have given nothing to society. You have risked nothing, and we have gained nothing.

Deep down inside you know when you have taken something as far as you can. From there you can either ask for help to make it better, or send it out into the world and move on. We artists must learn to be happy with that. I could re-write “The Dishwasher’s Son,” for the next several years. Who knows what it would turn out like if I did, but then you would never know would you? I would never “ship” it. It would  just languish in the re-writes and I’d complain about how long it’s taking and how hard it is to “finish” a book.

Well it does take longer than expected, and it IS really, really hard to “finish” a book.

You will have to decide at some point to let it go out into the world and become what it is destined to be.

And let’s face it, if you get really lousy reviews and they all say pretty much the same thing, you could do another re-write with those changes in mind. There is nothing written anywhere that says once you’ve shipped your product, you can’t improve it. How many versions of  popular songs are there? Have you ever heard an artist do an “unplugged” version of their own song? Your audience could actually help you become a better writer. But only if you “ship.”

I know it’s scary to ship your art. It’s a huge risk to put something you’ve been working on for a long time out there for others to see. (and judge) They are going to judge it. They are going to judge you. If you can’t handle this, maybe writing really isn’t for you. Maybe gardening is. Or TV, or six martini lunches. Or reading to your cat.

One thing is for sure, if you write or paint or sculpt or whatever, and you just keep your work in a drawer or garage some place, you just wasted a lot of time. It’s like that old question, “if a tree falls in a forest and nobody is around to hear it, did it make a sound?” Who cares? Nobody heard it. It never mattered to anyone. The world goes on like it never happened. Like you never happened. What a waste.

All for the want of a little courage.

Just ship it and get over it.

After a while, you’ll get used to the comments, and your art will change, and the comments will change, and one day you may find an audience that really likes your art. Then you and your art will have mattered. Wouldn’t that be better than to have not existed at all?

Art matters. You matter for having created it. So just “Ship It” and get over it. Move on. The next step is going to be a doosey.

It seems the closer I get to finishing this book, the more it seems possible that it could be mediocre. The immortal exuberance and the ignorant confidence I began this project with has morphed long ago into a couple of hung-over cheerleaders. I feel like I’m pushing a car up the last half of a tall hill, and these cheerleaders are no longer helping me push, but instead, I find them in the back seat of the car sleeping things off, leaving me alone with my self-doubt, who has been here all along, but was shouted down earlier, when the cheerleaders were in their prime. The realization is almost palpable:

My book could actually be mediocre; it could even suck.

I feel like I’m pushing this car, which is getting heavier by the hour, and silently wishing I were in the back seat with the chearleaders–passed out or otherwise. If only I could get self-doubt to help me push; I’d make it to the top for sure. There seems little hope of reviving the cheerleaders.

Hands on the bumper, eyes down, keep pushing, and stop looking at the top of the hill. Is it me, or is this hill actually getting taller. . .