I live in Skitown USA - to those of you non-skiers, that’s Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Point and shoot’s a common phrase around here. It’s another way of saying “just do it” or “go after it.” A year ago, the idea of writing professionally seemed too far-fetched. Kind of like my introduction to skiing…

Now, to be clear, my family didn’t move to a ski resort town to be ski bums or because of the gorgeous backdrop. No, we moved here nearly 8 years ago because my in-laws retired and decided to spend their golden years away from the hustle in the city (Denver). Our first kiddo had turned one, so in other words, we moved for the affordable childcare.

The other day I went out to ski with my two older littles (8 and 5 years old). Normally, we stay within the comfort zones of my 5 year old - greens or easy blues. This time was different. She wanted to go down the face of Tomahawk - a more intermediate blue run I remember from my first visit…

Nearly fifteen years ago, my then-boyfriend-now husband and I made the trek for a weekend getaway. He convinced me to give the famed winter sport a try and while I’m pretty certain he cared less about my shaking nerves and more about showing me his snow-skills, I strapped on a pair of death-sticks and hopped into a gondola car.

Everyone in our group was graceful and experienced - my boyfriend’s parents, his aunt and uncle, even his 8 and 10 year old cousins. I swallowed my fear and tried to look comfortable locked in a snowplow. Then we reached our destination: the famous Tomahawk run everyone had been talking about. I peered down the slope. It was steeper than any hill I’d seen before - I grew up in the flat lands of central Illinois where anything remotely elevated is considered a hill. I spent a good 10 minutes afraid to move.

What if I die? Nah…too many witnesses.

Much to the relief of my group waiting below, I did it. I fell several times and got a couple of free souvenirs: a shot of humiliation and several stamps of thigh-high bruises. But I did it. Yeah for me!

Since that first trip, we made it a tradition to return each year. Somehow I’d find myself back at the top of Tomahawk, reluctant, but ready to take another spill. I looked and felt a lot like Goofy.

Well, the other day I arrived at the same run with my kids. As always, I mapped my plan to get down as safely as possible. However, the pitch of the hill that once sent me into a fit of anxiety didn’t look so scary anymore. In fact, it looked easy. I raced down to catch up with my ski-bunnies, excited to share the news.

I conquered the hill!

New experiences I’ve had over the years similar to that first ski trip have kept me paralyzed, writing and blogging in particular. Questions of doubt often lurk in the back of my mind.

What if I’m no good? What if I fail?

And sometimes my fears materialize (I’m terrible at cooking fish - ask anyone in my family). Yet, I’ve also found if I keep returning to face my biggest fears - those steep hills - I get a little better, go a little faster, and feel a little more confident.

When I posted on Twitter my excitement about writing my first blog, I was surprised how quickly 6 replies from complete strangers came rolling in: “happy for you…congrats…can’t wait to read it…share the link!” All the worry once holding me back seemed silly.

How hard was it really?

All I want to say to other writers questioning their self-worth or ability to put themselves [or their work] out there, is this: If you want to do something - write, blog, freelance, etc. - just do it. Sure, you might fall (more than once), make embarrassing mistakes (I do daily), and likely take multiple trips back to start (wait till I share my query-flops). But don’t let fear or worry upstage you; don’t let negativity shadow your glowing spirit. 

Skiing? Once I committed myself to learning how, it got easier...like writing. Almost daily I have to swallow my pride and stare at the screen, ready to make typos and stupid errors over and over. Still, I know if I want to get better I have to keep at it.

When my kids and I were secure on the chair lift, I shared my excitment. “I slayed the dragon - I’m not afraid of Tomahawk anymore!”

My 8 year-old looked at me with a smile and maturity beyond his age. “Good job, Mom!” He gave me a thumbs up. “I knew you could do it!”

I felt on top of the world. At least I know who my real fans are…

—

Simply Sally