...maybe you'll fail.

Maybe to you publishing a novel would represent your first real 'success' in the world, and therefore symbolises change. What's more, where there's the risk of success, there's the certain risk of failure. Maybe publishing exposes your private self to the world, leaving you vulnerable and 'known'.

Whatever. You've paid for the ticket, now you're afraid to take the journey.

To Cary's comment about writing novels not necessarily implying publishing I say - what a lot of coy baloney. Sure, other writing may be therapeutic, but the novel as a form is demanding and specific. To go to all the troule to write a novel presupposes the desire to engage with an audience. Otherwise why not write something easier and more therapeutic, like a diary?

Also, submitting work is a great way to get better at your craft.

That's not to say that publishing isn't difficult. The first time I got published I was living overseas and so it didn't really register with me. The second book I was back at home, and boy, did it freak me out. I put on twenty pounds, felt hugely depressed and lost all will and motivation before a full on anxiety attack brought me screaming back to life. All is well now, I'm just saying for me it was a big transition to go from 'unpublished writer' to 'published writer' and it wasn't easy. But it was necessary. Now I see myself as at least published but with a very long way to go to being as successful as I want to be, and that's a fine place to be. Better than remaining in the 'unpublished' box.

This is a critical point in the story of your life. Is our hero going to risk success? Or is he going to go on living as a 'might have been'?

I was on a high the whole time I was writing my first book. How exciting to have a book deal! What wonderful, all consuming labor! Beautiful words, written and crossed out and improved upon, on a daily basis.

My own writing.

My very own.

Like my child.

I was happy until I finished and realized that complete strangers are going to take my child away and make it their own!

They're going to handle her, they're going to choose the font, they're going to wrap her in plastic and then I'll be JUDGED.

Actually, it was depressing. I went through a kind of post-partum depression.

I think publishing really is more scary than writing.

But, you know, you'll get over it when you cash your first royalty check, especially if you have your second book already started by then.

Then you can go through the mood swings all over again!

But I could have done without reading it here. It's along the same lines as Monday's letter - inspired by it, in fact - and it's basically the same problem, from another person in the same milieu.

I get that Cary's a writer. I get he's an alcoholic, and that those threads twine inexorably through his life and inform his every moment. But lately the column has veered between those two points almost exclusively, from the failed experiment of a couple weeks ago to last Friday's letter to Monday's letter to today's. It's as if Carolyn Hax were only printing letters from 30-something divorcees with massive shoe collections... or if Dan Savage were dealing solely with gay fathers.

I like Cary best, honestly, when he's answering questions that are so out of his purview that he has to reach for the answers. His most inspiring columns to me have been when he's just guessing. He's not guessing here - he's ruminating on the nature of fear and the fear of success. Which would be fine, if he hadn't done the exact same thing two days ago.

And even though I'm a writer, even though I fear success, I'm not moved by this latest batch of letters because there are so many more visceral problems out there than fear of success. Surely some letters came in this week that dealt with bigger crises than these.

And inspires little sympathy.

It feels like giving away a child. A lot of people put more effort into a writing novel than would even be reasonable to put into raising a child.

Then it's done, and you have to give it away????

Okay, well so they give you money in return, but you can't ever be in control of that child again. You can't ever nurture it, you can't correct it, you can't change it or anything.

A piece of your life goes away! It's gone. An intimate relationship that defined your life is over.

It can be a mind f***. Took me completely by surprise.

I think expectant writers should be warned about this possibile reaction, the way expectant mothers are warned about the possibility of post partum depression.

"there are so many more visceral problems out there than fear of success"

I don't agree. My whole family is to various extents crippled by it.

Whole nations are crippled by it. Australia for example. This is a nation of twenty million people that is sitting on vast mineral wealth, as well as a two hundred year old history (I'm talking since the European invasion) relatively untroubled by war or famine or ethnic clashes.

But guess what? Most people identify as victims/working class/little battlers. (Which is what most of our forefathers were before they came here.) Most people are suspicious of higher education and any kind of entreprenuerial self improvement. It's as if you think you're better than other people if you do succeed and the tall poppies get ruthlessly cut down.

Sporting heros are revered, intellectuals are met with mockery and distrust.

Sure, we could improve ourselves. Start exporting the produce of our brains rather than our land. Seriously invest in education and scientific and technological development. Ensure our ongoing prosperity by capitalising on our vast natural assets.

But no. That would smell too much like success.