You stand out when you have a published book. This is something authors want….and don’t want at the same time. This conflict plays out in a whole bunch of ways, which I won’t take the time to get into here.

Why would we resist standing out? Oh, the reasons goes so, so deep, often into the realm of superstition.

When I lived in Iran, the Evil Eye was a force to be reckoned with. To deflect the covetous attention of others,
Esfand seeds were burned on a special metal grate after guests left a home. Turquoise jewelry was worn to protect oneself. Salt was placed in children’s pockets to serve as a talisman. If a mother had many healthy sons, she dressed the youngest as girls.

As proof of concept, my former mother-in-law, an old woman of Bedouin stock, liked to recount the story of a jealous neighbor who came for a visit and commented on the large flock of hens pecking away in the courtyard. Forgetting to invoke God’s name and his blessing, the neighbor drew the Evil Eye and the very next day, all forty birds lay talons up, leaving my mother-in-law sobbing.

Envy, in the form of the Evil Eye, was Kryptonite. Cross its path, and luck, talent, success would be sucked away. Better to disguise these attributes, or hide them, to keep them yours.

Iranian society, as a whole, was set up to keep beauty and wealth far from prying eyes.

In many ways, I’ve operated as if I too believe that envy can do me in. I worry that I might lose what’s valuable to me if I allow others to notice my good fortune.

I taught my children to blend with a crowd, to avoid being singled out. I eschewed all signs of conspicuous consumption. I worked hard at looking like everybody else. Worse, I downplayed my achievements, or kept them to myself.

I’ve always been most comfortable on a level playing field. With all that’s precious to me tucked away.

I was talking to my mother not long ago and I got why shining in any way makes me nervous. She was busy describing the latest sins of a tall, glamorous woman she works with in North Dakota. Jealous of her appearance, my round, stubby mother was, once again, raking her name over the coals. The message being: have what I want, and I’ll hate you til the end of time.

There I was, face to face with the remnants of this deeply buried childhood fear: I will only be liked if I remain unremarkable and average.

It’s easier to resent someone who has what we want than it is to work on creating it for our selves.

A couple of years back, I posted a picture on Facebook of Walt and I running in Argentina. We were there chasing summer because winter in Ireland, complete with lashing rains and  four hours of daylight, basically do us in. (I swear to God, the sun refuses to shine until well into March.) We run an on-line business, our kids are grown, and there’s little excuse for staying put when we have other options, so,I ask you, WTF?!

One of my friends made an offhand comment in response to said picture. She implied that we’d lose our remaining friends because we’d made that choice.

And there it was: my fear of standing out and drawing the Evil Eye. Losing something precious.

That comment made me want to stuff my pockets with salt, burn Esfand, apologize (to whom, I don’t know) for being a showoff, list all the difficulties we’ve had since we got here so as not to appear too lucky.

Cause we know what happens when you don’t camouflage good fortune. We don’t have any chickens to lose, but we do have friends that we rather value. Or one of us will break a leg out on the trail, which will totally suck because I have no idea where the hospital is. Or our identities will be hacked and our bank accounts drained. (I could go on, but you catch the drift.)

I’m afraid of other people’s envy and yet envy is such a telling emotion, if you think about it. It slaps a great big bullseye on exactly what it is that you want.

How are you playing small to avoid the envy of others, particularly your family or friends? How is it affecting your decision to start or finish your book?