Put a Face On It

When asked to pick a quote or advice as my favorite, my mind goes predictably blank for the sheer number of possible profound or fitting quotes. Then I smile and remember there's a trend I fell in love with years ago that applies to both the silly and profound alike.

Put a face on it.

If a fruit is boring, put a face on it. If the unknown is scary, put a face on it. If your character is flat, put a face on it. My screensaver on my old iPod Touch is marshmallows with sparkly eyes and big smiles. There is next to nothing that can overwhelm you if you put a face on it.

When I look around my room, there are easily hundreds of faces wherever I look. Crocheted happy cupcakes, brooding sketches, dreamy dolls, disproportionate plushies, my fish. Button eyes, googly eyes, soulful eyes paired with little mouths, toothy grins and trademark smirks. The less realistic, the better, because the basic shape of a face and an artistic rendition tells me more than a photograph.

Metaphorically, everything has a face, which is why I mentioned fears. When we are terrified or shocks, faces can blur or blend or disappear. We can't face our fears until we give them a face. There's  a satisfaction in looking coolly at what we fear and telling it that it no longer has power over us. Even if it's a bit of a lie and we're pants-shittingly terrified, there's that triumph in forming the words and not squeaking it out in a mousy voice.

Sometimes the fear is truly beaten, at least in terms that even if we hesitate, we still don't let it stop us. When my friend Matt admitted to his fears in becoming an author, I was probably too casual in dispensing the advice that you develop a thick skin. When I said that, it was with the courage I had as an artist, not the fact that I was even more vulnerable than he when it came to publishing my writing.

I didn't want to be a hypocrite when I had made writing my faceless fear.

Put a face on it.

It wasn't a simple process. Many people would have quit in the frustration of getting it there. Yet I felt like I was an impostor to give advice about writing when I was being so precious with my own. I essentially went to college to be more courageous with my talents, then nearly passed up the challenge that had been nibbling untested for so long.

It took my unfair nonchalance over writing to decide I needed to put my money where my mouth is. What was I waiting for? Could I get any better if I was hoarding it like a dirty secret? Hell no.

No matter what you do in life, really consider how well you've looked at your choices. Don't pass up a chance to take your own advice. And when life hands you lemons?

Put faces on them.