I just woke up from a series of dreams where I was deeply afraid of something unknown. In one, I feared my own lack of memory; I spent the dream hunting for a name I’d forgotten. It was the name of my third child, a middle child, a boy. Only when I woke up did I remember I only have two children.

On Friday in the middle of a five-minute meditation I visualized a large white ball, floating. When I cracked the ball open, all of my fears came tumbling out.

None of this is surprising to me. In my waking life, I’ve been thinking and working on acknowledging my fears and flushing them out. Fear is holding me back from finishing the draft of my novel. I badly want to finish, and I want it to be good. More than good! I want it to be everything that I know it can be if I don’t wimp out.

The stakes are high; my first novel failed to find a publisher despite my agent’s best efforts, and I decided to shelve the one after that. I’ve told myself that if this one fails too, maybe I should put fiction aside for awhile and pursue other creative projects. Writing a novel takes an incredible amount of time and energy. If I’m not succeeding, that time/energy should be put elsewhere.

But I don’t think this book will fail. It’s full of great story, including much that appeals to today’s readers. I’ve done a ton of research, not just on the book itself, but on my readership potential. This book shouldn’t fail… unless I completely choke on the final draft. And that’s what I’m doing.

I’m choking because I’m afraid. I’m afraid to write the things I need to write to make the book as good as it deserves to be. This book has a voice and a message. Long ago, I learned that writing is only significant to me if it teaches something, if it makes the reader consider another perspective. That’s what I’m doing here. If this last draft is successful, my book should prompt readers to think and learn about a number of important topics.

Here’s the one I’m struggling to put into words right now. My in-the-present character, Tessa, needs to learn that racism isn’t only about the big, shocking things that people like her great-grandfather the eugenicist did. Racism must be rooted out of every aspect of our daily life, all of our interactions, all of our institutional norms. Tessa, a white woman, is going to need to reckon with this even though she thinks she can’t be racist. She’s a married to a Black man, her best friends are Asian-American, and her twin brother is gay. She doesn’t think she has anything to learn. She does. And it’s my job to show that on the page.

And I’m afraid. Even though I know what I’m writing about, I’m afraid because I believe so strongly in what I’m trying to show. I’m afraid I won’t do it justice. I’m afraid because even if my book is successful– especially if it’s successful– some people will hate it.

That’s what my dreams and mediations are doing. They’re helping me crack open my fears. The next step is finding the courage underneath.

Once I find my courage, once I get past those fears and vulnerabilities, I know I can do this. It will pour out of me. And then the book will be done, and ready for the world.