What scares me the most

Happy Halloween! Any Scorpios in the house? I see you. 🖤

While I am not one for costumes, secrets, horror movies, surprise parties, and other grim emotional experiences, I do appreciate having a suitable time once a year to investigate the shadowy realm of my mind.

Many wonderful writers thrive in the energy of this sneaky, secretive, messy, unknowable underground, and they play here year-round. I am not one of them.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: I’m a full-sun perennial! With respect to fungus, mould, earwigs, slugs, and whatever else likes to live in the dark, I prefer to work with the perfectly good material that lives in my conscious mind, thank you very much.

Even if you do like surprises, it is still always challenging to look at the things we are hiding from ourselves. Shadow is unknown, and it holds way more of our creative power than we think.

I turned 52 last month. My father died on my 19th birthday, so since then, however I celebrate my birthday, his death is always present in shadow. For years I actively ignored this, and didn’t tell anyone. It was just a joy-kill! I am now older than he was when he died, at 51. And now, I think about his death at least once a day.

My father was a Scorpio. He spent a lot of time in the basement of our house, near the wood-fired furnace, where he would tend his collection of spider plants and African violets. He installed a grow light over the worktable, and it gave off an eerie violet light night and day. As a little kid, I was afraid of the basement. Once I got down there, I was fine; I could paint and make a mess and play with my hamster and whatever. But crossing the threshold was scary — my heart would sink whenever I gazed down the stairs. And it would race as I ran back up the steps to outrun the ghosts that threatened to keep me down there.

Writing a book can feel scarier than going into a dark basement! Why? Because there are things you know you have to write that have never seen the light of day. You don’t even have words for them yet. You may not even know exactly what they are.

The core of your story lives just out of sight. It shows up in your peripheral vision.

What if you start to write, and nothing comes?

Or maybe even worse — what if there IS something there?

I talked about how I’m getting more and more comfortable with the unknown on a private podcast, What I’ve Come to Know, hosted by my friend Caryn Gillen. These are conversations with big sisters: women 50+ who have seen things, done things, learned things.

Have a listen to my episode, #10: The Good Stuff Is In the Unknown with Sarah Selecky

I’ve mentioned Caryn to you before. She’s one of my favourite people. She listens with exquisite intelligence, and asks the best questions. An oracle for our time.

Listen to my episode if:

• you’re feeling afraid to write — or afraid not to write

• you’re on the cusp of something new

• you want to feel reassured by how much you don’t know
  

And if there’s a woman in your life who feels anxious about what to do next, please share this podcast with her, too.

Each of these conversations are illuminating, wise, and clarifying. Wow - women over 50 know what’s going on.

I’m grateful I get to be here for this decade.

With love,

PS. This is a private podcast, so it won’t turn up when you search in your podcast app. The link takes you straight to the episode, and it plays in whatever podcast app you like to use. Sneaky shadow podcast!

Photo credit (top): Christian Chen on Unsplash.