Back in 2007, I was studying writing at university.
Having entered the course immediately after high school, I was the odd one out. Most of my classmates were people a decade or more older than me; people who had spent significant portions of their lives working passionlessly in jobs they never really wanted. Now, finally, they were pursuing their creative dreams. Their stories were the kind that made me feel like a tertiary education was a worthwhile endeavour, even if I wasn’t studying law, medicine, or any other industry that would apparently help me secure a job in a few year’s time.
I remember vividly the first day of my second year. Because I was taking classes on both the Gold Coast and Brisbane, I was scheduled into a tutorial before the associated lecture commenced. The situation meant that we couldn’t talk about the course content, so our tutor decided to spend the hour finding out why we’d taken the class.
She opened with an abstract question: “What are you afraid of?”
We were asked to reply in order of our seating positions, meaning I would be one of the last to answer. So I sat and listened.
“Snakes.”
“Hmm…probably spiders.”
“Flying.”
“Yeah, spiders for me too.”
What the fuck?
Here I was, in a room of aspiring artists, and the most frightening things they could think of were animals and airplanes?
Finally, it was my turn to speak. I knew what I was going to say. It was the fear that had driven me to start considering a serious writing career at the age of 15.
“Dying before I do something of value.”
Next.
“Sharks.”
“Same thing, hey? Sharks.”
The end.
The tutor looked at me. “Out of the 30 of you, only one person has an existential fear?”
Nobody responded. I don’t think they understood the problem.
In the almost-decade that’s followed, I’ve watched friends and colleagues give up goals under the guise of contentment. When they ask me what I’ve been up to, I tell them about my most recent success. A screenplay sold. A film doing the festival circuit. The new, exciting concept I’m developing. Each one a step towards conquering my fear.
“Wow, I think it’s really cool that you haven’t given up.”
They don’t get it.
Give up? That’s not an option! It’s impossible to imagine life without this fire in my gut that drives me to achieve. Without it, I would be nothing.
You understand, don’t you?