I have this friend. He’s one of the guitarists in my band. He’s AMAZING. He writes this original stuff that is funky and dance-y and catchy and deep and thought provoking and makes me want to drum as hard as I can to do it justice. His guitar work is mind-blowing. He can hear the first few lines of a song and start playing it in seconds. Having worked in a coffee shop where lots of musicians came through over the years, I’ve developed a bit of a musical pallet. This guy is ACES.
He spends a lot of time pulling himself down. Making fun of himself. He started a Kickstarter campaign that was hopelessly high, just to watch it fail. As a joke. He asked everyone on FB to download one of his songs, but didn’t include the link and said it wasn’t his best song, and he didn’t think he deserved fame, he just wanted a lot of people to download it. As a joke. He’s talked about starting up a band dedicated to his original work and invited me to drum in it — I was SO EXCITED to be part of that. He hasn’t done much with the idea. I almost think it might be a joke.
This guy deserves fame and fortune and to have his music heard all over the country, probably the world. I don’t think he believes in himself much. Or if he does, he doesn’t believe this is possible for more than a rare few people and that luck will strike or it won’t.
I want my friend to succeed. He’s good. DAMN good. But he can’t go anywhere unless he chooses to. Fact.
When I finished writing my second book and asked for beta readers, several of my friends took me up on the request and came back with this little nugget:
“This is really good. So was your last book. Why aren’t you pushing these harder? Are you afraid of success?”
This little piece of pop psychology has stuck with me. No, I’m not afraid of success. To me, from here, success doesn’t look like a sure thing. I’m afraid of reaching for success because it’s very high up, and the fall down if I can’t do it is very far. I’m not afraid of succeeding, I’m afraid of the fall that comes when you FAIL. Plain and simple.
I have used that fear to make excuses, I have used it to slow myself down, I have used it to hide when I should be showing myself to the world. Even if not everyone likes me, if enough people like me, that’s enough. The more people see me, the more might like me, the more I might have enough to succeed. Instead I am scared, dragging my feet, not going about this as quickly or efficiently as I can or should.
When I saw my friend the other night, he said he’d found a bassist for his original band but they hadn’t talked much about it. A little light bulb went off in my head. He’s me. I want to shake him until he makes a musical career for himself that he deserves, but I know I can’t. A lot of my friends feel the same about me.
I need to step this shit up. Life is trying to signal me, and I need to listen. I just hope it manages to signal my friend in the same way, so he hears it, sees it, understands, and acts.
