But you know what I am afraid of?
The terror I feel when staring down the barrel of a pointed finger…and knowing that it is legitimate…is something I cannot stand.
Sure, the critic isn’t in the arena. The critic isn’t covered by the blood, sweat, and tears that come as a result of effort.
But the critic can impale me on the sword of criticism with the slightest hint of opinion.
No, I am not afraid of failure.
But there are other things…