Keeping ourselves in a cave

Groar meets some new friends

From an evolutionary psychology perspective, fear is helpful. When we lived in the trees and then in caves, being scared meant staying alive; those of us who heard that growly noise and ran away lived. Those who went to see what it was, got eaten. Fear kept humans alive.

So it's not surprising that thousands of years later, fear is still useful. We still hear the modern equivalent of that growly noise, and do the modern equivalent of running away to live another day.

But that's not always true. Fear can also hold us in a prison of our own making.

About thirteen years ago now, a good friend of mine talked about wanting to illustrate a children's book. I said I'd love to write a children's book, as I had always loved reading certain books to my own kids. I'd particularly loved reading them rhyming stories, like Room on the Broom and Edward the Emu (who was sick of the zoo, there was nowhere to go, there was nothing to do). I loved the play on words, the patterns, the sing-song way you could read them and entice kids into the stories.

So I wrote about one little, lost Dinosaur, called Groar.

Groar meant more to me than a simple rhyming story arc. He was scared, alone, powerless - words that I personally related to, and felt deeply. And he discovers that he doesn't have to be alone, or lost, or powerless anymore; hope that I wanted to feel for myself, and offer to others. I'd had a childhood that included feeling lost, alone, being bullied by those bigger than me. I'd suffered abuse and derision for being different, and had found it easier to hide who I was.

Groar was, in many ways, the story of me and a mirror to my hopes for others. I thought his story was pretty cool, and when my friend withdrew from illustration duty, I found someone else to do it for me. I put it all together, and Groar the book was formed.

That was in 2012. Thirteen years ago. And Groar the book has sat in a virtual dusty corner, ever since. This is a great shame, to me today.

Fear is the reason why.

For all this time, fear ruled my head. What if you publish it and everyone hates it? What if someone gives a terrible review? What if they say you're not good enough? Fear whispered to me, and told me it was better to run away; better to not take the risk or put myself out there, because - it told me clearly - I wasn't strong enough to take the knock, if my writing was poorly received. Want to stay safe? Keep it to yourself and only show friends you're pretty certain will be kind! Fear was easy to listen to. And when you don't step out of that cave, fear is pretty good at saying 'See, I'm right - you're safe, nobody criticised it at all!'

And so for 13 years, Groar hid in that cave. And I hid in there right alongside him.

Until, one day, I felt just how much fear was taking from me. And, maybe, from others. From my own family, who wouldn't get to see Groar out in the world. From other kids, who might enjoy reading his story. From other parents, who would never have the chance to read their kids a nice little story and enjoy doing it.

And, crucially, I asked myself how much it would hurt if someone did criticise it, or me. Perhaps it's part of growing up and growing old, but all of a sudden the fear of someone saying 'your book sucks!' was suddenly not as big and scary as - well, as big and scary as the shadow a little Dinosaur can cast, when he wants to scare away visitors.

So this year, I published Groar. You can, if you wish, find him on Amazon.com.au

I know it'll never sell more than a handful of copies, but that doesn't matter. I've already written book 2, and have book 3 in my mind. Groar is out of that cave and cuddled up safe and secure with a new best friend or two (and you'll have to buy the book to find out how that happened). But more importantly, my fear got smaller, when I faced it.

I'm not saying I'll be fine when the inevitable happens and somebody tells me the book is terrible. I'll probably feel awful, sulk and mope for a day or two; but life will go on - and already I've heard from those outside my friend circle who've read Groar to their children and had a great response, and loved the story - which, in so many ways, means sooo much more to me than any bad review ever will. Knowing that my words brought a smile to a young face or two I'll never see, makes my heart feel lighter and my life feel somehow more complete. Groar has helped me more than a little fella that size should ever be able to do.

And I'm telling you all this now, not to increase book sales (although the link is there if you're interested) but to increase your own hope of wrestling your fear into submission, and stepping out of your own Groar cave.

We are all of us human, and fear will always have a place within us.

But we'll always have the ability to be brave, be strong, and to step out of our caves and into the light.

We just need to follow Groar's lead. We don't need to be lonely, lost or alone, any more.

Take care of yourselves, and each other.