I worry about my daughters. Aren’t I completely crucial to their well-being? How will they survive without me?
I worry about my students. Yes, I’ll be “on-line” with them, but is that really enough? Don’t I HAVE to sit in my office for several hours every day being present with whatever little dramas I can cook up with them? (Am I not abandoning them?!)
Can I REALLY write for most of every day for ten days and segregate my coursework into a mere two or three hours?
Will I be able to travel comfortably with this cold? (Will my sinus-y head explode at 35,000 feet?)
Will I get lost in Boston? (Will I find a hotel?!)
Will it take a million hours to drive from Boston to Naples, New York, and back? Shouldn’t I have flown into Rochester?
The only advice that fits is that old chestnut: “Do it afraid.”
Here’s what I can control: take a novel to read on the plane; take a cleanish copy of my manuscript with me; take a map (buy a new one if that one gets lost); put one foot in front of the other and see what happens; listen to people; take my camera with me and take lots of pictures.
Oh, and whatever happens? Write it down.