Asking for Help. That’s the theme of Miss Sugar’s latest NYNY writing prompt.
That’s a funny one for me. My SO is the other half of my D/s dynamic. Her being my help-meet and general-dogs-body is built into our relationship. (We actually spent a chunk of yesterday having a Big Relationship Discussion about that, as it’s our 2-year dynamiversary and all – go us).
But that’s not what I’m going to talk about here.
I’m going to talk about… my realtionship to encouragement, actually. There’s a line in my head where someone going “you can totally do this!” goes from feeling like encouragement to feeling like someone is demanding that I step desperately and radically far outside of my comfortable-and-compentant zone under seriously high-stakes circumstances.
And, at that point, I basically want to curl up in a ball and make All The Things go away.
Which does nothing.
The whole point of this Radical Magical Transformation experiment is to do just that. To fight dirty, as Gordon puts it, and to stop being in denial about how high the stake really are when you’re doing it.
So here’s my confession. Denying how high those stakes are? That’s how I get myself to do any of this stuff. My sweetie and I were talking about Things I Can Do from an arts-and-kink-for-income PoV, and my girl was overflowing with encouragement and suggestions for workshops I could run for youth-and-poetry, erotic poetry and/or prose, 24/7 D/s, sharps play, and all sorts of other things. Which is great, but it’s also… It’s also me going “No, see, if I do any of this stuff when there’s money on the line, the (increased) risks invovled literally paralyze me into inaction!”
Which, y’know, totally isn’t her problem to deal with.
I’m aware of that.
Moving along: What does this have to do with Miss Sugar’s injunction to Ask For Help?
It means applying for grants – for my poetry show, but also for me (if I qualify).
It means sucking it up and making an indigogo campaign for my poetry show that would, if successful, let us pay 1/4 of our artists Rate without having to rely on grants (or, if the grants don’t come through at all, it would allow us to pay ALL of our poets a small honourarium – $50/show – and still have a little bit left over to cover off some of our venue fees).
It means getting in touch with the chicky who runs the pansexual play-parties in town and finding out where she host them, so that I can get on with booking a venue for Spring Fling.
But it also means helping myself. By breaking down all those scary-but-probably-doable suggestions into non-threatening bite-sized tasks that I can do until I get to a point where I can try my hand at pitching a workshop idea or similar and actually feel competent about doing so.
Magically speaking, this might include things like creating some kind of a “come to me” perfume oil that has specific components for luck, money, and charisma. Or similar. Or running myself a magical bath involving components for confidence, courage, and empowerment.
So least that’s where I’m at right now.
Meliad the Birch Maiden.
 … That I don’t remember because around that point I basically put on my mental headphones and went “LALALALALALALALALALA!” until I could move to different area of the house and get my breath back. Cowardly, I know, but that’s totally what I did.
 When I’m renting a venue, making a Lovely Parting Gift, or when my own livelihood and/or the continued financial survival of my poetry show, are going to be effected by whether or not any of these new Things To Try succeed.