Understanding Fear at Turning Points in Your Career

"Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do... The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it."

- Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

This July marks one year since I began writing Potentia for Orchestra Santa Monica. The commission was a major milestone for my career, but before I could write a single note, I had to make some pivotal decisions that would have significant impacts on the work itself. I was paralyzed with fear. My financial stability, reputation, and artistic integrity were at stake, but I soon understood that my fear was a marker I was truly on the right path. A year later, with a piece I'm proud to stand behind, here are a few lessons that stayed with me.

1. Make Space For the Work That Matters

Within the same week I was commissioned to write Potentia, I was also offered a salaried teaching position. At the time, commissions were sporadic, and the logical move seemed clear: take the job and protect myself from financial uncertainty. But accepting both offers meant splitting my focus on a large scale project with an already tight timeline. If I truly wanted composition to be my long-term path, I had to treat this opportunity as an investment. So I embraced the unknown, declined the job, and made space for the work that mattered. The resulting piece is one l'm proud to stand behind.

2. We Are Capable of More Than We Believe

As I began composing Potentia, more fears poured in: I've never adapted a poem. What if I can't deliver on time? What if the audience hates it? Pressfield says we doubt ourselves because we fear discovering how capable we really are. The remedy? Show up. Do the work. Every day. Like a fisherman who casts his line knowing some days yield nothing-you show up anyway, ready. For six months, I showed up nearly every day. Even while touring Japan last fall I was revising on flights, in the early mornings, and aboard the shinkansen between cities. The result: 22 minutes of music across six movements for full orchestra.

3. The Audience Must Be the First Priority

Film composers already understand this: craftsmanship matters, but it must serve the story-and ultimately, the audience-first. It doesn't matter if you can make the best cioppino in the world; if your guests are allergic to shellfish, you've missed the mark and wasted everyone's time. The same is true in music. Audiences can tell whether you're genuinely trying to connect with them or simply feeding your own ego. Prioritizing their experience builds trust-not just with listeners, but with the organizations that commission and support your work.

Fear isn't a signal to turn back

It is often a sign pointing us toward unfamiliar but meaningful territory. Yet many still retreat, robbing us all of beautiful music and stories that could have been. As Pressfield suggests, amateurs believe they must conquer fear before they begin; professionals understand that fear never goes away.

There's no such thing as a fearless artist, only one who shows up to face the work head on. As I write this, I'm once again in unfamiliar terrain, facing new fears. But I am also still making space. If you're wrestling with dread, don't only weigh what could go wrong. Ask what might go right if you follow the work that truly matters. You may be exactly where you're meant to be. Keep going. The work is waiting