You know those people who believe they can do anything? Well, I am not (surely, to no one’s surprise) one of those people.
My husband, on the other hand, never met an obstacle he didn’t try to tackle.
Once, at a skating rink, he saw someone perform a half-axel, jump and turn.
He said, “I’ll bet I could do that.” Away he went. He raced forward, spread his arms wide, lifted off and twisted.
The thundering boom of his crash-landing shook the rink. I slipped and tripped my way over to his limp body spread-eagled on the ice. He opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times and said, “I think I can do it if I build up more speed.”
I’ve spent years researching ways to become a self-assured “I Think I Can” kind of person. My bookshelves bend with a library-worthy collection of self-help tomes : Daily Meditations of the Tao…Become a Better You….The Power of Now…The Secret. There’s even a section on parapsychology and the study of dreams. But my Little Engine That Could, chugged along repeating, “I think I can’t. I think I can’t.”
I recently completed my first novel and had the opportunity to submit it to an agent. I spent weeks dragging my feet, pulling my hair, shouting, “I can’t!”
But, with the help and support of my writing critique group (who cleverly named themselves WTF Critique Group when they learned “I can’t” curse) I did it, I submitted the first three chapters of my book to the agent.
I’ve been flying high ever since. Sure, there was a blip on my radar when I got her rejection letter, but this time I shouted, “I reject your rejection!”
My Little Engine That Could has a new phrase now. “I think I might be able to…maybe? I think I might be able to…maybe?”