Every Artist’s Worst Fear (And The Simple Way to Face It)

You know what my biggest fear is?

Bees.

I can’t stand ’em.

Bees and pollen are the two reasons why I’d rather freeze in winter than delight in the warmth of spring.

Sure, there’s always the threat of being stung by one, but my phobia stems more from a history with these winged creatures of death.

It all happened when I was a four-year-old living in Newport News, Virginia. I was on a field trip with my Pre-K class to a park in the woods, and there was nothing to suggest I’d remember this day for the rest of my life.

The trip wasn’t supposed to be anything special. We just started a picnic and planned to goof off the rest of the time.

It was a nice change of pace from playing with LEGO’s all day. And the park’s quiet beauty had just started to blossom…

But suddenly, they attacked.

I don’t know what us kind-hearted kids did to provoke them—maybe one of us hit a hive or something—but what followed was a scene straight from a horror movie:

• Swarms of bees surrounded each of our tables.
• They crawled atop the sandwiches we were eating for lunch.
• And I still shiver when I think of the ones that found their way up my pants leg.

The class had to evacuate almost as soon as we got there, but not before the injuries, both physical and mental, piled up.

I miraculously escaped after only being stung once—and no, not in any…critical areas, if you’re wondering.

The pain in my wrist and the Pre-K trauma still terrify when I hear a buzz today. But now as an artist/teacher/content creator, there’s an invisible fear that stings—bad pun, I know—worse than any bee ever could.

And that fear, is the fear of indifference.

The True Opposite of Love 

I recently took a much-needed break from writing and I felt like a fraud for doing it.

One of my previous posts mentioned how good I was feeling after a pretty rough year, but even though I could write again and the mental blocks were gone, something still wasn’t right.

I was happy but I lacked discipline. I had new ideas but no passion behind them. I typed thousands of words but they weren’t memorable.

And soon I discovered the root cause:

I was scared.

I was scared because this is new territory for me and this site.

Talk to any content creator and they’ll tell you that the beginning is always inspiring. You have this grand idea of what the future will be, and you’re ready to see what you can bring to the table.

But once time passes, you start to doubt yourself:

• “Is the work I’ve done really good enough?”
• “Have I wasted all this time in my life?”
• “Do people think this stuff is worth reading, watching, or listening to?”

That’s what eventually comes up.

It’s all fun and games at the start because it’s just you. You’re doing what you love and you’re passionate about it. But as time goes on, you have to think more about your audience.

Passion alone is great but passion is always meant to be shared. And you never know how people will react when they see it.

What I see looks different than what you see. What you see looks different than what your friend sees, and so on.

So not only do you think of the work itself, but also the perspective of each consumer and the various interpretations that may result.

And this uncertainty both excites and terrifies at the same time.

Yes, it’s exciting to see my posts shared in Singapore, India, and of course here in the states. And if you would have told a younger me that I’d have a blog with reasonable traffic and 50 plus posts—many of which are two, three, and four thousand words long—I would have never believed you.

But now that it’s reality, it’s a little scary.

No, not because I can’t handle hate—I’ve dealt with plenty of that.

Hate is just love with undesired circumstances. Both are intense feelings that result in response to a catalyst.

I’m not worried about either of those. The thought that scares me is if a response isn’t there.

That is indifference, the true opposite of love. 

And by indifference, I don’t mean the “send-13-subtweets-to-prove-a-point-and-then-act-like-you-don’t-care” type. I mean the “you-and-everything-you’ve-done-could-disappear-from-the-face-of-the-earth-and-my-life-wouldn’t-be-affected” kind.

That’s what scares me.

Because while this fear may drive you to great achievements, it also produces a tremendous amount of pressure:

• You can’t release this video because it doesn’t live up to what drew your audience.
• You wonder if you’ll ever capture that same “magic” again.
• And you think about your life and question if it still provides enough inspiration.

Those are the thoughts I’ve had recently. Especially that last one.

I really do hate to harp on the past, but 2018 was the toughest year of my life. And many of the posts I wrote then came from a distinct place.

2018 was all about fighting. There was a struggle, an adversary, and a goal to accomplish.

But that’s done now.

I was successful and many of those posts are the main drivers of HFE’s traffic.

But now I’m left with another question:

“What now?”

What do you do when you don’t have to fight anymore? How in the world do you grow accustomed to…normal?

That’s what I’ve tried to figure out.

Do Not Grow Weary…

2018 Drew was a fighter but I don’t want or need to fight anymore. I’ve done enough of that.

This year, I want to be something greater:

I want to be a servant.

So now these are the questions I ask:

• “How can you make a positive impact on people’s lives?”
• “How do you encourage someone who’s in the same hole you were in?”
• “How do you make a reader feel so strongly that he or she is willing to change for the better?”

And no matter how much I think on those, I get the same answer every time:

Do great work.

Yes, it took me a while, but I realize now that my focus was misplaced.

My old questions were about me. But it should have never been that way.

I should already know I don’t have to be great. I just have to piece together something that is.

Because none of this is about chasing numbers or worrying about people’s opinions. It’s about doing what I’m supposed to do—and I’ll always have help with that.

My problem made me recall a Bible verse where the Apostle Paul encouraged believers to “not grow weary of doing good” (Galatians 6:9 ESV). And that’s been a motto for me as of late.

I know I can be a fighter if I need to, but I’m more than that, and you are too.

We’re creators, we’re encouragers, we’re well-doers. We have to remember that.

We don’t work for numbers and we don’t do it for some earthly reward…

We do it because that’s what’s on our heart to do.

“Is it pleasing to God, can it help others, and is it true to me?”

That’s the thought process now. I’m not overly concerned with anything else.

You should think the same way.

Go back to the beginning—to the reason that started it all. Go back to when the numbers didn’t matter. When the expectations, the challenges, and the disappointments weren’t there.

Then there won’t be room for fear.

Because that, is when you’ll do great work.

-Drew