One summer afternoon early in my self-employed writing life, the sweet sounds of a Red Sox game streamed through my home office speakers in central Pennsylvania. The blend of the crowd’s hum, announcers’ chatter, Fenway Park organ and even the radio jingles for me all faded into a rhythmic, lulling background.

Then the play-by-play guys’ tone signaled a tense situation.

I listened up.

The Red Sox pitcher was in a jam. The pitching coach slowly walked to the mound for a chat. What DO they talk about? I’ve always wondered, guessing it’s probably NOT candlesticks, wedding gifts and voodoo curses — like that scene in “Bull Durham,” my favorite baseball movie.

First announcer: What’s he going to say out there to help his pitcher?

Second announcer: He’ll just calm him down, help him focus and tell him to trust his stuff.

Those three words resonated for me, a helpful reminder for baseball pitchers — and writers, creators and makers — to lean into your experience and skill to find confidence to conquer the next moment.

I jotted “Trust Your Stuff” onto a sticky note for when I would need a confidence boost.

Years later, these three words have endured for me. It’s good advice for any of us who are trying new things and must overcome fears of failure.

Dig a little deeper and remember all you’ve done before, all of the preparation and experience that has led to this moment. Trust that to face this next batter, this next pitch or play — your next pitch, project or day.

At that time, I was no longer on a magazine staff with a steady stream of assignments and a steady paycheck. Instead, I pitched stories to editors and was coming to terms with just how hard it is to face the fear of rejection.

Trust Your Stuff

That fear of failure roars and rumbles when I’m run-down and weary or when another part of life demands extra time, energy and “mental bandwidth.” So I was not surprised when those fears crept in and kept me awake one recent night, in the midst of a string of important family commitments and in the doldrums of March, when I’m often winter-weary, craving sunshine, spring and baseball.

At about 1 a.m., I woke to the clanging metal tags of our shaking, big red-brown dog, who sleeps on the floor by my side of our bed. I lay awake as my fear of failure triggered the familiar sense “not good enough,” and “am I actually getting anywhere?”

When that happens, I tend to give in for a while and can allow my own writing to slide to the back burner.

But now, defeat is not an option. I’m committed to posting a solid piece here every Thursday, so must conquer those fears one by one. I’ve prepared for them. I’m writing through them. Here we are.

Unchecked Fear: Creativity Killer

Because fear of failure is a threat to the creativity and productivity required to be the writer I aim to be, I need every bit of wisdom and all the tricks I can gather.

To keep myself going, I’ve collected little sayings on sticky notes, like “Trust Your Stuff” from that Red Sox announcer or “Shut up & Write” from my badass friend, Sandi. And nice messages from readers on social media posts. (Every comment matters.)

We often turn to sports not just for entertainment, but for inspiration and lessons in motivation, leadership and excellence. The start of a new baseball season reminds me of this favorite from my favorite sport: Trust your stuff.

I grew up in a family of Cleveland baseball fans, attended college in the shadow of Fenway Park and became a devout Red Sox fan. Ten years ago, I married into a family of baseball players and coaches here in Central Pennsylvania. As the stepmom of an award-winning, home run slugging Division III NCAA player, I’ve learned just how much hard work, practice and commitment it takes to excel at baseball — at anything worth doing.

While the game may look peaceful and slow on TV, it demands incredible confidence and mental toughness of its players. Just imagine: A hitter stands in a box four feet by six feet, right in the path of a rock-hard object heading his way at 90 to 100 mph.

And the pitcher? His whole, unprotected body works to deliver power, accuracy and speed to a ball that may shoot back to wallop him at more than 90 mph.

Seems crazy to me. Talk about facing fears and believing in yourself. You’ve got to love it.

It’s the same for a successful writer, or artist, maker or entrepreneur. Putting yourself out there despite the fear, takes focus, confidence and mental toughness.

I want more of THAT.

Finding Peace in the Chase

In the last few years, I’ve pivoted away from writing journalistic analysis and magazine feature stories and toward personal essay and memoir. My dream is to write books. I’ll either get there or die trying and am at peace with that.

This whole site with stories about making peace is one way I’m making peace in my own life.

So when those fears of failure rise up, “Trust My Stuff” reminds me of all I’ve learned, experienced and accomplished over decades as a writer, and to keep working to get where I want to go. My “coaches” these days are authors Linda Sivertsen, author of the “Beautiful Writers” book and Seth Godin, marketing guru and author of 20 best-selling books about trust, respect, art and marketing. By 2 a.m., I’d hit the books for inspiration to dig deeper.

The bottom line: Work harder. Practice more. Get better.

Cowboy Up!

Still, I wanted to know more about how baseball players prepare their mental game during spring training. I found four insights in this Inc. magazine piece by Jason Selk, author of “Executive Toughness.”

Major League pitchers, I learned, can be just as afraid of failure as the rest of us. We are all afraid of failing from time to time. I’m working hard at three of Selk’s tips gleaned from baseball coaches: like practice, focus on what you can control, and make small improvements.

For one, my office speakers these days stream word-free classical piano music for better focus during writing time. One step in the right direction.

But I was missing one of Selk’s tips: the Rallying Cry. I need a new, motivating message, a “call to arms” that reflects the big goal of say, winning the World Series — or successfully selling the book.

Can any baseball fan forget Red Sox player Kevin Millar’s rallying cry to “Cowboy Up!” ahead of the team’s historic 2004 World Series win?

I began to visualize signing my book at events. Maybe my new rallying cry is “Sell the book!”

Or perhaps “Cowgirl Up!” says it all, reflecting my chosen life in the country.

One of those. What do you think?

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