What The Ghost of Christmas Present Taught Me About Creative Courage
How watching my daughter’s play reminded me what every creator needs to hear about being brave with their work
✍️ Thursday Thoughts · Personal stories with practical takeaways.
My Medium friends can read this article over there as well.
I was sitting at the back of Foxearth Village Hall last Sunday, wedged between my two giant sons, watching my twelve-year-old daughter, Maryann, step onto the stage as the Ghost of Christmas Present.
I love the work of Charles Dickens, and ‘A Christmas Carol’ is a must see during the festive period.
Maryann projected her voice to the rafters and committed fully to the character. And as she was playing a couple of other minor roles too, she frequently disappeared backstage for rapid costume changes, re-emerging in her new garb.
My wife was backstage managing props she’d made herself, and I sat there absurdly proud—and quietly amazed.
Because Maryann wasn’t always this commanding actor I was now seeing up there.
When she first joined our local theatre group - while not unusually nervous or lacking in confidence - she was more hesitant and unsure.
She knew she wasn’t the most naturally talented kid in the room, and yet she kept showing up every week anyway. And over time she got better - a lot better.
She learned her lines at home—often late at night on her iPad, which I once told her off for, assuming she was scrolling rather than rehearsing. She practised and performed, and improved through power of personality, repetition and bravery.
The performance wasn’t perfect of course. There were a couple of forgotten lines and missed cues here and there. But not from her - and none of that mattered anyway.
What mattered was that Maryann was brilliant, and although I’m biased as her dad, she proved herself to be one of the best performers in the whole show.
Which is saying something as the entire cast nailed it.
And seeing her up there in the new lights that we’d all had a whip round to buy, I realised something very clearly.
Not being courageous is exactly what stops most creators from building anything meaningful online.
The Courage Gap Between Creating and Publishing
You already know how to create. To write. You’ve proven that.
What stops most of us isn’t a lack of ability—it’s being afraid of failure—of showing our vulnerability. That’s why we don’t publish when we should.
Professor Brené Brown has spent over a decade studying vulnerability and creativity. In her bestselling book, Daring Greatly, she dismantles the myth that vulnerability is weakness.
Her conclusion is simple and confronting: vulnerability is our clearest measure of courage.
The most creative people she studied weren’t fearless. They were willing to be seen before they felt ready.
In practical terms, this means every time you save something “for later,” every time you wait until it’s safer or more polished, or every time you question your own credibility—you’re choosing armour over authenticity.
Comfort over courage.
I should know. I’ve doubted myself so often over the years it’s painful (sometimes literally).
Three Ways to Stop Hiding & Start Publishing
1. Build publishing habits, not perfect pieces
Consistency beats intensity. A short post published weekly, or tiny Notes daily, will move you further along than a masterpiece trapped in drafts. Start with the smallest unit you can realistically publish.
2. Treat feedback as data, not a verdict
Your work is not you. Responses—good or bad—are information, not judgments on your worth. Track what you learn, not just what performs.
3. Write first. Fix later
Over editing while creating kills momentum. Get the idea down. Finish the thought, tweak and publish. Improvement comes from iteration, not endless revision.
The Courage To Be Seen
Of course, my daughter felt nervous before she stepped onto that stage. Yet her confidence grew once she did.
That’s because she dared to do it and had put in the background work to build her bravery.
That’s the paradox of creative courage. You don’t publish once the fear disappears. You publish while afraid—and over time, the fear loosens its grip.
So…
You’ve rehearsed long enough, and you’ve learned all your lines. That draft you’re sitting on? That’s your stage.
So have the courage to step onto it. You’re more ready than you think.