In a case of blogging ping-pong, I wanted to take a second and riff off of something that Paulius posted concerning self-doubt and podcasting, which was a riff on something I posted concerning self-doubt and podcasting.

He mentions some of the issues I bring up in my post and a quote from Tom Hanks that relates well (and serves as the title of this post). I recommend reading Paulius' thoughts on the matter, but he basically points out that some thing we'll have to learn if we want to expand to new media like podcasting and videocasting is that we have to shed our self-consciousness and not force our behavior when behind the mic or in front of the camera. He addresses the doubts about our own image by pointing out that the world already see and hears us in a particular way, and it is only the discontinuity between that and our own internal view of how we think the world perceives us that leads us to doubt. "The only person hung up on what you look like you," he writes.

I thought his point about home-movies and the bathroom mirror analogy were an insightful way of looking at the situation--something I had not considered before. The idea that it's only you who thinks you look strange in a home-movie, and no-one else, resonated with me. Sometimes you can't see something in a new light until someone has offered you a different perspective.

The discussion reminded me of one of the few times I've had to perform in front of an audience. I was in the Senior Musical in High School in which I had to act, sing, and dance on stage, none of which I'd really ever done in front of a crowd. Couple that with the general awkwardness of being a teenager and, understandably, I was somewhat terrified of the prospect. But my desire to perform and be a part of something that looked like so much fun outweighed my doubts and I went to auditions. It was mortifying, especially when I had to sing a song I'd really never heard before as part of my audition, but I drew some strength from Scarlet, who is the thespian in the family. If my younger sister could do it, so could I.

I secured a part and practiced for weeks. We eventually performed a weekend's worth of shows and they went off, for the most part, without any major hitches. I know I was wracked with stagefright, but my voice didn't quaver too much, and I didn't freeze when I walked out into the stagelights and looked upon the crowd. It's been a long time and I can't be sure what I felt during the whole experience, but interestingly I don't remember being overly self-conscious. I remember being nervous that I would forget my lines, and the general butterflies about performing in public, but I don't remember being afraid to perform because of what people might think. I don't think I ever considered that someone might think my performance sucked. Maybe I've grown more self-conscious in my years. Maybe I'm more hesitant to take a chance because I'm an adult now, and somehow more is at stake. Maybe all the practices instilled in me a greater confidence. Or maybe I was secure in the knowledge that I was following someone else's direction, acting out someone else's scenes, singing someone else's songs, whereas now I'm considering embarking upon something that is my work alone. If it fails, I can't deflect the blame on anyone else.

But I was once more afraid of forgetting what to say than how the audience would react to me saying it. If I felt that way once, maybe there's hope for me yet.