I stare at the form on the screen for several minutes, fingertips hovering over the keyboard. Like Neo in The Matrix, I can choose the red pill or the blue one, each sending me down a different rabbit hole of actions and consequences.
By choosing the red pill, I’m given the opportunity to sign copies of one of my books at a big book festival and get some publicity in the bargain.
The blue pill, on the other hand, shuts that door. No book on display, no opportunity to meet potential fans. It’s back to the cube farm for Neo and me.
We all root for Neo to take the big chance, to leap into the unknown rather than double down on his meagre, gray life.
So to a casual observer (that’s you), my choice probably looks like a no-brainer.
Swallow the red pill, stupid.
But I don’t. I choose blue. I’ll tell you why. I’ve figured out that it has a lot to do with practicing smart vulnerability. More on that in a moment.
First, I’ll clarify the stakes.
Last year (2023), I had applied to this same book festival for an author slot to highlight my mystery-thriller published in 2022. I was awarded a slot, paired with another author (way more successful than I), and we enjoyed a moderated Q&A under a big white tent in front of an appreciative audience, many of whom trailed us back inside to purchase our books and have us sign them.
I sure felt like a “real author” that day.
But this year, since I don’t have a new book to be featured, the red-pill option would surely entail sitting alone at a table hawking a different book with my name on it that no one will have heard of, watching people stroll by avoiding my gaze.
I study the form onscreen that encourages me to swallow the red pill.
Your book…table…signing…
For a brief moment, I’m tempted to follow Neo into a new world rife with possibilities.
But sometimes, avoiding an opportunity is the smarter choice. Swallowing the blue pill can, every so often, serve you better than taking the big leap.
Our doubts can protect us, not just undermine us.
My doubts about how this book festival event would unfold manifest as vividly as a waking dream: I can just see the lonely author with pen raised, ready to sign books for readers who don’t materialize, wondering how she got here.
(If you think this is a pessimistic interpretation, then you’ve never prowled a book festival where scores of anonymous author-vendors spend the day exactly as described.)
Um, no thanks.
Putting smart vulnerability to work
Instead, I choose to practice smart vulnerability, which means calibrating when the upside of being vulnerable is more compelling than the downside risk of feeling uncomfortably exposed (flawed, humiliated, embarrassed—choose your emotional poison).
The book festival red-pill option did not pass the smart vulnerability test. I’m quite sure that experience would steep me in a deeply vulnerable place where I feel anonymous and unvalidated as a writer.
I don’t need to seek out more opportunities to trigger those feelings.
A prime example of an activity that does pass the smart vulnerability test is my weekly posting on Tiktok, where my very untelegenic self shares tips and resources for fiction writers. Showing up on Tiktok is consistently humiliating (that feeling never dims): I don’t look polished, my hair is weird, I have to look at my notes. Let’s just say, no one would mistake me for an “influencer.”
But the downside risk of looking ridiculous is offset by 1,100 people who actually follow my posts, like them, and save them to their favorites list. And they visit my author website, too, which is all upside.
The equation works a bit differently for everyone.
You choose the circumstances whereby you allow your vulnerable self to show up in front of strangers—and you do so because you’re fairly certain you will benefit from the experience.
For example, do you go rigid with terror when you must speak in public? You can’t change that overnight. But you can discern a smart-vulnerability opportunity (say, you’ll be given a $50,000 fee and free publicity for your book or cause) from a dumb one (say, the public library offers you a basement room and a very small turn-out).
[I’m not saying libraries are dumb places to do things. I love libraries. But this opportunity, as presented, is dumb from a vulnerability-exposure perspective. Glad we cleared that up.]
This way of thinking is all about self-preservation—protecting your dignity, taking chances that matter, and skipping those that probably won’t do you any favors.
In our win-at-all-costs society, there’s a time and a season to swallow the red pill and leap into the unknown, even if it’s dangerous.
But there’s also wisdom in holding back, holding off, being true to yourself and then opening up to the universe when you’re pretty sure it’s going to give you something you want, deserve, or need.
Not every opportunity is the right opportunity. Put another way, not every opportunity available to you will necessarily do right by you. You’ll last a lot longer out here in Creativity Land if you can perceive the difference and wield your vulnerability for gain rather than pain.
Relatable! There's actually a book called Mortification which sums up most author events. I'd rather spend the time writing altho book festivals can be fun to hang out with friends. Followed you on Tiktok. You a have nice presence. Also I didn't know there's a favorite list. Good to know. Still learning Tiktok.
I love this! It's so true. There is the popular idea that we should jump out of our comfort zone whenever possible. That's where all good things happen, right? I love the wisdom that nothing should be done blindly and not all opportunities are the right fit.