A woman I used to know, Cynthia, was in the business of helping celebrities prepare to do interviews on camera. They were accustomed to performing in front of thousands of people, they had reached excellence in their craft, but unscripted appearances and interviews on talk shows were really hard for some of them. Cynthia would meet with them, set up a mock camera, they’d sit down facing each other and she would ask probing questions about their careers and their private lives so they could learn to manage conversations that made them uncomfortable. She advised them how to dress, how
to sit, and how to appear relaxed when they were stressed out. How to smile when they were afraid. She showed them what to do with their hands, what to do with their legs and how to laugh at themselves.
Cynthia was in London in the early summer of 1997, when she got a call from Princess Diana’s assistant. He told her that the princess wanted some help with her public appearances and he
wondered if Cynthia could meet with her that afternoon. She was breathless, it was an extraordinary opportunity, but she was also intimidated. What would she say to her? What if she did a bad job and Diana was disappointed? She decided she needed some time to prepare. “I can’t do it today,” she said, “I’m flying home to Los Angeles. But I’ll be back in London next month and we can set something up.”
Diana was killed in a car crash two weeks later and Cynthia deeply regrets her decision. The irony was that she was being challenged by the very things she was teaching her clients how to handle and
she couldn’t rise to the occasion. She learned the hard way not to let fear stop you from saying yes.
I had written my first book and gotten it published by Simon & Schuster when I got a call from an agent. He had a client who was writing a self-help book about the soul and she needed an editor. She had gone through several of them and it hadn’t worked out. He thought I might be a good pick because he thought my temperament would match with hers. I told him I wasn’t an editor but he thought what she really needed was someone to guide her and help her stay focused. Someone who had a spiritual background. I said yes.
On the first day, I was trembling on the inside. I had no idea what to do but I didn’t let her know that. I
gathered my courage and I walked in like I knew exactly what I was doing. I started by listening to what she had to say. Listening is always the best way to go. Then I spoke and went silent intermittently. I gently told her what I thought would work and she tried it. During the first week, when I got home, I thought I hadn’t done very well but I kept going back and pretty soon, I stopped judging myself and I started enjoying the creative process. The book hit number one in a week and I was so glad I had showed up, fear and all.
The next call I got was from another agent who had heard about me. He wanted me to ghostwrite a memoir for a legendary singer/actress. I could hardly believe what I was about to do. But when two Fed Ex boxes arrived at my house filled with write-ups, articles and reviews that I had to put in some kind of order, I went into my bedroom and got into bed. “I get to write a book for this legend” morphed into “I have to write a book for this legend.” And still, I never considered not doing it and like the first one, and it made it to the bestseller lists immediately.
When I was in the ballet, my very first professional performance happened suddenly. I understudied a woman named Lily and I was watching from the wings. Lily fell and she limped offstage. “Poor Lily,” I thought. I hoped she hadn’t hurt herself too badly. But in the next moment, I realized that I was her understudy and I had to perform her part in the next ballet. I was terrified when I rushed to the dressing room and I did my makeup and hair in ten minutes, a process that always took close to an
hour. I put on Lily’s costume. They conducted a quick rehearsal and when the curtain went up, I stepped onstage for the and started dancing. I pulled it off with a few missteps and when it was over, I was exhausted but I did it.
In my current career, I’ve written for Olympic athletes, news anchors, award winning composers and movie stars. Each time I showed up for the first interview, I felt insecure and frightened but as
soon as the work started, I focused on what was in front of me instead of how I felt about it.
Showing up despite your insecurities or your fear of mediocrity takes a lot of courage and requires realistic expectations. You’re not going to pick up a guitar for the first time and play like Eric Clapton. You’re not going to your first ballet class and dance like Misty Copeland. You won’t sing like Barbra Streisand or act like Meryl Streep. The ladder to excellence is tall, you have to climb up rung by rung, and whether or not you make it to the top, the reward is putting your fears in the background, showing up and eventually enjoying the ride.
My fear never went away completely, it’s still around, but I’ve learned how to manage it. I draw inspiration from painter, Georgia O Keefe. She said, “I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do.”
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