When I was a teenager, every Sunday we would go cycling with my dad, my two uncles and their sons.

We would wear proper cycling outfits (the ones that make you look like a Power Ranger), take our road bikes and ride for around fifty kilometers in Northern France’s hilly countryside.

The finish line was my grandparents’ house, tucked away in a little hamlet not far from the Column of the Grande Armée¹. Every time, we would race the last few hundred meters to the house. We called it “La Course Du Panneau” - from the roadsign at the entrance of the neighbourhood, we would pedal as fast as we could until we reached the house. It was tacit. We all knew when the race started. The dads would encourage it; they grew up in a competitive family.

I rarely won. Sometimes, I would take the lead, but sort of slow down at the last second only to lose to one of my cousins, extatic. There was no prize, other than the pleasure of telling the tale of who won and how to our grandparents, with a mouth full of saucisson.

My dad would catch up with me, amused, and say: “It’s the fear of winning. You were scared of winning”.

I never quite understood what he meant, back then. It made no sense. Why would I be scared of winning?? Winning is good!

Now, I think I do.

With art, I sometimes get to a point where I feel energised by ideas. I can’t wait to start. It’s almost something I can feel in my body. Sometimes I will even start taking notes, draft in my notebook, or start playing the guitar. I can picture it all inside my head, it’s going to be great, it’s going to be fun. I can see it so clearly I can almost touch it.

But then I drop it. I never start. I give up. I wait weeks before actually doing anything about it. The energy dissipates. And then it’s lost. There’s this physical pressure in my chest that stops me from moving.

At the last minute, when things are starting to work, when I have the wind at my back, I give up.

I start thinking. Overthinking. Doubting.

I stop pedalling.

Is it because I am scared of what would happen if it worked? Am I scared of finding out what happens if I keep going? I might win. I might be happy, fulfilled. Or I might discover that even with the work I put in, I am not good enough.

In the Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron speaks of something similar, that she calls “Creative U-turns”:

“Those of us addicted to sympathy in the place of creativity can become increasingly threatened as we become increasingly functional. Many recovering artists become so threatened that they make U-turns and sabotage themselves.
We usually commit creative hara-kiri either on the eve or in the wake of a first creative victory. The glare of success (a poem, an acting job, a song, a short story, a film, or any success) can send the recovering artist scurrying back into the cave of self-defeat. We’re more comfortable being a victim of artist’s block than risking having to consistently be productive and healthy.”

- Julia Cameron (The Artist’s Way)

When I read that chapter, it reminded me of those neighbourhood races with my cousins, and what my dad used to tell me.

“You’re just scared of winning”.

The creative blocks, the distractions, the doomscrolling, every “it’s too late” and “I’m too tired”, maybe it’s all just the fear of winning. Especially when those show up when things are starting to work, when the ideas are starting to flow, when the excitement is showing up. For example, recently I’ve been writing more often and been feeling more creative - and happy. It’s funny that that’s exactly when Resistance started cranking up the volume.

Half an hour after I wrote this blog post’s draft in my notebook², I started reading “The War of Art”, in which Steven Pressfield writes:

“The danger is the greatest when the finish line is in sight. At this point, Resistance knows we’re about to beat it. It hits the panic button. It marshals one last assault and slams us with everything it’s got.”

- Steven Pressfield (The War of Art)

There is a lot of relief in reading this. When you’re close to finishing, you can get a sudden drop in courage. You can self-sabotage. It’s a thing, and a lot of people struggle with it! When you are about to succeed, or make a breakthrough, this weird demon shows up and smashes the house of cards.

And the worst is that this demon is me! It’s inside me!! It is self-inflicted! How crazy is that? All the right cards are in my hand, and somehow, I fold.

It’s just the fear of winning. I don’t know if he knew it at the time, but my dad was onto something.

Be kind to yourself. As Julia Cameron says, “Have compassion. Creative U-turns are always born from fear - fear of success or fear of failure. It doesn’t really matter which. The net result is the same.”

Doing the creative thing makes me happy. The moment I start sketching, I’ve already won. It’s the act of doing that matters. If you worry too much about the finish line, you’ll end up stopping yourself from doing the thing you enjoy.

Keep pedalling. Keep enjoying the wind in your hair and the sun over the rolling hills of the northern countryside. Keep enjoying the ride.