Taking Risks

In Life and in Writing

What Would You Do?

What would you do if fear wasn’t holding you back?

Where would you move to? Where would you travel? What foods would you try? Would you dress differently?

What would you write?

For 2025, I’ve picked a word/phrase for the year, something I’ve never done before. The phrase I’ve chosen: “taking risks.”

Even at a young age, I intuitively understood that the only way for me to tackle any fear or anxiety I had was to actually confront the thing causing me fear/anxiety—to “be brave.” (As an adult, I’ve learned about exposure therapy, a scientifically proven way to address different forms of anxiety; my young self had the right instincts.) Kindergarten was the first year I remember very distinctly being told how brave I was.

But I didn’t necessarily feel brave.

In kindergarten, I had to ride the bus to school, a different school than my older siblings went to. I was often the only kindergartener on the bus, and I had to get on at either the last or second-to-last stop.

Everyone on the bus was so much bigger than me, and I didn’t know anyone (except one other kindergartener who sometimes rode the bus); and it was a full bus, meaning there was never any place for me to sit when I got on (in many cases, there were already three kids to a seat). The worst part was that no one ever made room for me. But every morning, I got on that bus with the scary and sometimes mean kids and rode to school. It was not a pleasant experience; in fact, I can still feel my five-year-old self’s trepidation. But as far as I knew, I didn’t have any other choice.

“You’re so brave,” my mom always said whenever I described the stressful bus situation.

And I immediately understood that if I wanted to do certain things, experience certain things, achieve certain things, I had to face what scared me. I had to be brave. I had to take risks.

The Conditions Are Always Impossible

Fear and bravery manifest themselves differently as an adult. In theory, we have more choices, but we also sometimes have fewer choices, confined by circumstances.

Just today, this quote by British novelist Doris Lessing came across my social media feed:

“Whatever you’re meant to do, do it now. The conditions are always impossible.”

I don’t think the timing of this reminder could have been any better.

In order to do what we want to do—that which brings us fulfillment, joy, and meaning—we just have to do it. We have to be willing to take risks. To go all in. To try. To be brave. The conditions will always be impossible.

This is true in life, and it’s true with writing. And in art, in general.

When thinking of writing that takes risks, Gertrude Stein, in particular, pops into my head first. Then, of course, Picasso comes to mind, being inextricably linked to Stein, and both of them leaving their marks on the world of art and literature.

I, of course, don’t know how Stein or Picasso or anybody else felt (or feels), whether fear played any part in their art or if they even thought they were taking risks of some kind. I imagine, though, that they felt something akin to what I felt in kindergarten—that what they were doing was something they had to do. That it was less of a choice and more of an imperative act. This, at least, is what art/writing is to me.

I write because there’s an innate drive for me to do it. It’s not always comfortable or easy, but it’s always necessary, and it’s what I love to do, what I’ve always loved and wanted to do. I’m also compelled to take risks with my writing, whatever that looks like (as it’s quite subjective). I love art that pushes the bounds of convention. And that’s precisely what drives me. (What drives you and what you consider “risks” will likely be different.)

Taking Risks

So what does “taking risks” mean to me?

• Challenging myself/trying new things, including “scary” things that may raise my anxiety—getting out of my comfort zone.

• Immersing myself in the creative life—surrounding myself with creative energy.

• Being unapologetically myself.

• Being bold/speaking my truth.

• Taking new risks with my writing—considering where I want to go (writing-wise) next.

• Submitting my work (as I’ve been doing) and aiming high, recognizing that there’s always an element of vulnerability and discomfort with the submission process.

• Changing what’s not working, either slowly/incrementally or in a more sweeping way.

• Trusting my intuition/listening to myself.

• Resting when I need to.

Perhaps most of all, it means following my heart, my dreams. Because my heart doesn’t want “easy” things. It craves risk; it craves challenge.

While playing a didgeridoo may not seem risky (because it’s not really!), it still falls under “taking risks” for me because it’s a way to challenge myself and try something new. (The didgeridoo was a Christmas gift I happily received. The video below shows one of my first attempts at it.)

What does “taking risks” mean to you?