Please Stay Passionate

My boyfriend just called me. The German team had just won a match of the World Cup (which I’m still trying to understand, please forgive my ignorance of soccer/football), and his sweet face was alight with joy. When I turned on my video, he burst into the most excited explanation of everything that had happened during the game and all of the little victories that led to this one big victory. He danced around in his chair, his face split into the biggest grin. His eyes were nearly glowing.

It was the most uninhibited joy I’ve seen all day. It was lovely.

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Here’s a secret that’s not really a secret: I’m passionate about writing young adult literature, and that’s how I’ve always been. I think I’ve been writing YA fantasy and adventure stories since before I could fit into the category of YA readers.

Here’s the secret part: I love writing about animals. I cringed when I typed that.

There’s nothing morally or socially wrong with me wanting to write about wolves dashing around a forest. I grew up loving Redwall by Brian Jacques and every last one of the Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis. I read Watership Down by Richard Adams when I was ten without realizing that it was a novel definitely NOT meant for ten-year-olds. It’s natural that I emulate what I love to read. There’s no reason to be ashamed.

But along the way someone laughed. Someone didn’t listen to my jabbering. Someone brushed me off and said, “That’s nice,” in a way that led me to believe that it was the exact opposite of “nice.” I don’t remember when it happened or care who those someones were. The point is that now every time I show excitement about the things I love to do or the topics I love to write about, I feel like I need to apologize. I feel like I need to steel my smile on my face and prepare for a battering ram of other people’s judgments.

So I’ve built up walls of caveats: “I know that it needs work. I wrote this part when I was twelve. Don’t worry, I’m going to change that character or plot point or detail.”

And I’m tired. It’s time to tear that wall down. I have come to realize that the words of other people are not the problem any more. It's my internalization of past pain and past words. I don't need to steel myself against other people's criticisms, but against my own fear of rejection. In fact, I don't think I need to steel myself at all. Opening up is the crucial part.

Part of my healing process has been releasing some of my writing out into the world, through this blog, for example. Clearly, this isn’t YA fiction or anything. It’s just my life and my thoughts, but it’s a step. It’s a stone removed from my defenses.

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I think that’s why it meant so much to me that my boyfriend called me after watching the World Cup match. It was an experience that made him happy, that made him feel connected to a whole army of fans all getting excited together about the accomplishments of their team. He knows I don’t know everything about soccer, and he didn’t mind. He wanted to share that with me.

That takes courage. And I want to take courage too. I want to loosen my white-knuckled fingers from around this jar of passions that I have, glowing like fireflies. I want to unscrew the cap and share them with the people around me. I want to finally trust that the things that I have to say will fly and glow, and no one will squash them.

I think that being passionate about something is the greatest gift you can give someone. It’s taking something that makes your heart glow and handing it off in the hopes that it will make someone else’s heart glow too. It’s the vulnerability to say, “I don’t know if you’ll like this thing as much as I do, but I want to share it with you.” It is the marker of trust, of safety, when you can pour out your heart and sift through the contents and say, “This is what I love, and I don’t need you to understand it. Just be excited with me.” There is such joy found in the joy of others.

I hope that you never feel afraid to just be excited about what you love. Tear down your walls of caveats and fears and leap over the ruins. Please, stay passionate.