Last week on Instagram, author Bruce Spydar posed an interesting question: Which childhood dream are you glad you gave up on? (Bruce’s answer? Snooker champ. Check out his Instagram to read more.)

Growing up, I wanted to be an actress. I lived in a small town with a vibrant summer youth theater program, as well as a talented high school director. I loved my time in these programs, and saw no reason why I shouldn’t translate my limited experience directly into big screen fame and fortune.

I was lucky enough to be accepted into a prestigious acting program (honestly, I think it was sheer audacity and total ignorance of any rules that got me there), where I quickly realized that I DID NOT BELONG. And before you give me a sympathetic “ohhhh…”  It wasn’t a talent thing, it was a “THIS IS NOT MY DREAM” thing. There is nothing quite so illuminating as being surrounded by people for whom a thing (whatever it is) IS their dream. It’s a different intensity, focus, and level of passion. People refer to this as the “it” factor. I didn’t have “it” and I didn’t want to work for “it” like others did. I was scared to put myself “out there.” The dream wasn’t worth the risk. And so I did what anyone does when they are in a situation they are incredibly uncomfortable in: I tried to fake my way through.

And failed.

It wasn’t all bad – in fact, it wasn’t even 7% bad. I met amazing people. I got to sing and dance and sew costumes and experiment with makeup FOR COLLEGE CREDIT. I spent a semester living abroad in a (possibly haunted) English manor. But, underneath it all was the reality that this was NOT MY DREAM. For me, acting was a hobby. Albeit a fun one, but not a viable career choice for me. And so, after a year and a half, I made the tough decision to change schools and majors and in pursuit of a dream that fit me better.

Fast forward 25 years to the POINT of this post. Like Bruce, I am glad I gave up on my dream. Not only would I have been miserable if I’d continued pursuing acting, but experiencing that failure gave me an incredibly useful baseline of comparison. When I was acting, I lived and died by each performance, by the feedback, the peer reviews, the assignment grades. I didn’t have any confidence in myself or the work I was putting out there. I valued others’ opinions more than my own.

With writing, it’s a completely different experience. I am learning – ALWAYS learning – but I have a level of trust in both my abilities and my instincts that gives me the confidence to keep going. I don’t have the formal training that many of my writer friends have, but I feel comfortable asking for guidance where I need it and faking it until I learn the rest.

I now understand and accept the risk of putting myself and my work “out there.” It’s worth every jitter, every nervous moment. Lesson 1: When something is your true dream, it’s the fear of not trying that keeps you up at night, not the fear of failure.