Why it’s time to face our fears

It shouldn’t have been a big deal.

I’m after all 49 years old, I’m a mother, a wife, I’ve worked in the television industry for 27 years and when armed with a microphone and a camera person by my side, there are not too many places where I feel scared.  

This however was different.

This was the London Book Fair.

Why? Why was it such a big deal? This was the question I’ve been asking myself for the last ahem, 10 years (at least).

Most years since I started writing 13 years ago, I promised myself I’d go, only to find a convenient excuse. I have to work, it costs too much, the boys are too young, I don’t have the time, maybe next year? Always maybe next year.

So, this year - when next year arrived- I got ready with the usual excuses. Only this year was different. Now I’ve had more than fifty conversations with my Next Chapter guests and this fear, because let’s be honest, this is what it is, is the common thread connecting them all.  They feel it, goodness they feel it but the difference is they feel it and do it any way.

For a moment we talked about my husband and I going together, he also has written a book so it would make sense. But I knew deep-down this was something I had to do on my own.  I had to walk the walk and face the fear.

But what was I afraid of? As I booked my ticket, I still wasn’t really sure.  It was the first big publishing event I’d be going to. Perhaps it was that? It’s one thing sitting at home, writing emails, even interviewing authors over Skype. But now I was going to be there in the room with authors, publishers and dare I say it… agents. The same agents I’ve been writing to for nearly 10 years, my collection of seventy plus rejection letters all signed by them.

I was still wondering as I packed my backpack with my three books. I got on the train, I even popped something on social media and had some encouraging comments. The Next Chapter magic is real.  A lovely friend I haven’t seen in years even messaged me to say she lives right by the Book Fair, I could have stayed with her.  I took it all as a sign. What was I afraid of? There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m 49 after all and I’ve got my three books.

Only then I got a bit lost on the way, and then I walked in to vast, enormous book-filled world. I stood there, the buzz of excitement like a party around me and I had no idea where to go. I tried to find a talk, but I got lost again and was late. I learned a lot from the second part but then I heard the whisper.  “This is not your world” it was saying. “What are you doing here?”

I stayed for another talk. This time I sat on the front row and didn’t move, I told the whisper in my head to go away. I took notes, I learned more. Be quiet, I told the whisper. I’m not a child, I’m 49 and I’ve got my three books don’t you know?

Then I saw out of the corner of my eye, the fabulous Mel Sherratt. An author who I’ve come to know online and at last I was going to meet her for real. She’s not only a mentor but a friend too. This was a joy. We hugged, we spoke, there she was in the real. I asked questions to the people on the Kindle Direct Publishing stand where she was. This was really great. And then I told myself it was time to go, Mel had lots to do and I didn’t want to be a nuisance. I waved goodbye and off I went, but where? Where should I go next?

The low-hum of panic began to get louder. I had no idea what to do. What was the matter with I looked at the map and I asked directions. I found myself walking to a stand where I thought would be an agent, I’d had a friendly rejection from. Perhaps I should say hello?

I got lost, I turned around, I turned back and then I joined a line. It was a queue going into another enormous section. My pass was scanned and in I went. And then I realised where I was. It wasn’t just a stand with one agent, this is where all the agents were. Hundreds, and hundreds maybe thousands, I can’t be sure as it started to become a blur.  

There they were. All of them. I recognised faces, I carried on walking. It was like a who’s who of who didn’t like my books. That one said this, that person said that. Everywhere I turned there was another one.  

I didn’t know what to do. I walked to the back of the room, and then I turned around. Everyone was laughing, waving, having fun.

“What’s wrong with me?” I wanted to shout. “What’s wrong with me and my books?”

And there it was. The fear.

The same fear that comes as a child in a playground when nobody wants to play. Or later as a teenager when you’re not invited to a party and all your other friends are. When your friends have boyfriends and you don’t. When they’re getting married and you’re not. When you want a job and you’re told no.

When you’re on the outside looking in and want to be part of that world. It’s the same fear all along.

I don’t belong.

I decided to leave. I had to ask directions (again) twice and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so lost. I got on the train and I waited. I don’t belong here and I need to go home.

 But the train didn’t move. Like me it was stuck. We waited, and waited and it didn’t move.

And then another voice came into my head.

“Ellie Barker you can do better than this.”

Perhaps it was 49 year old me, perhaps this time, it was the whisper of the Next Chapter guests? I’m still not sure, but I knew I didn’t want the day to end like this, so I got off the train.

There were still talks going on at Author HQ, I hadn’t noticed these before - I’m suspecting I was too wrapped in Frightened Me. I listened to the second half of one and then sat down for the last session of the day. It was the Selfie of the Year awards – for the best self-published books.

A lovely looking lady smiled at me, and I smiled back. Then she moved long the row to sit next to me. Her name was Nancy and she started talking to another woman in front of me, Jane. Nancy and Jane were funny, encouraging, passionate and kind. Suddenly I wasn’t alone.  

Jane, it turned out, is a bestselling author who won the competition a few years before. Not only this, she became a black belt in karate at 48 years old. She was everything a Next Chapter person should be. “I love this world,” she told me. “it’s just wonderful, I couldn’t ask for more.”

They asked me about me and my books, I confessed I was feeling a little discouraged by it all and then Jane looked at my pass.  

“You’re an author, a journalist and podcaster. You’ve got everything you need in there to do this, you can easily do this world.”

They suggested societies I could join (I’ve already signed up to one in Bristol) and we swapped contacts to keep in touch.

They invited me to stay with them for a drink, but I now needed to go home. I got back on the train and I waved goodbye to Frightened Me, it was time for me to leave her behind. I took my three books, my new friendships and sense of direction back home with me, plus the feeling I was no longer lost.