• 18 Dec, 2025 *

Every time I start a new book or a new story, I go through the same familiar jitters of uncertainty. The blank page feels daunting. On one hand, I’m elated to begin a new journey—to create something beautiful from imagination. On the other, I feel overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the task: writing an entire story, creating characters, giving them motives and personalities, and shaping everything into something that both satisfies me and entertains the reader.

You feel the same jitters whenever you start something new. A new fitness journey. A new job. A new project. Learning a new skill. Meeting someone new. Your mind loves comfort zones. It prefers familiar territory where outcomes are predictable. So every time you attempt something with an uncertain outcome, your mind resists. Sometimes the resistance is so strong that it shows up as physical anxiety.

How do you build muscle in your body? By pushing it slightly beyond its current capacity. You apply just enough stress for the muscles to feel tension, but not so much that they break down or cause injury. You structure the process—targeting specific muscle groups—and gradually push your body out of its comfort zone. Over time, it adapts, grows stronger, and what once felt difficult becomes normal. You follow a routine long enough that it becomes part of who you are. That’s essentially how anxiety around newness works.

You have to make the task less intimidating, less overwhelming. Every time I sit down to write an essay, a story, or a novel, I know I’ll face the blank page again. So instead of trying to produce a polished piece immediately, I start with an outline. I dump everything onto the page—everything I know, everything I want to say. Then I rearrange those thoughts into a logical sequence. I identify gaps and research where necessary. Once the outline is complete, the next step becomes much easier: expanding those points on another blank page, this time focusing on prose.

Don’t think about learning an entire subject. Think about finishing this chapter. Don’t force yourself to remember everything—just expose yourself to the material. When you repeatedly engage with something in a fixed routine, you absorb far more than you realise. Learning isn’t meant to happen in one attempt. Nobody masters a subject that way. Don’t aim to become an expert immediately. Aim to become familiar.

That’s why assigning timelines to new projects can often be counterproductive. Deadlines exist to fight procrastination, not to force learning. Timelines can actually worsen the learning process. Instead of rigid deadlines you’re unlikely to meet, build frameworks for learning. You’ll take on many new projects in life—personal and professional. You might as well develop systems that help you approach them without feeling overwhelmed.

If you want to start reading classical literature, don’t obsess over the thickness of the book. Focus on reading 10–15 pages a day. The spine of the book is irrelevant—you’re not meant to finish it in one sitting. Break the intimidating task into manageable pieces. Think of that Russian novel that scares you. Ask yourself what would make it less intimidating. Would you read it if it were shorter? If the language were simpler?

You have to stop fixating on the final destination. In the beginning, the most important thing is to start—start living with the project. Let your mind lower its guard. Soon enough, you’ll find yourself moving through it with ease.

Dating someone new works the same way. Sweaty palms, nervous stuttering, mini panic attacks, rejecting yourself before she does—all of this comes from the anxiety of newness. Your mind is overwhelmed by uncertainty, so it invents scenarios—any scenario—to avoid dealing with the unknown. Even false predictions feel safer than uncertainty.

Instead of spiralling, focus on small, controllable things. Dress well. Groom yourself. Familiarise yourself with the restaurant menu. Know what’s good there. Then just be a good listener. Ask thoughtful questions that spark meaningful conversations. Let her talk. Pay attention. The longer you do this, the easier it becomes to open up naturally. By the time you leave the restaurant, you’ll likely feel confident enough to ask for a second date—without obsessing over the answer.

The real reason we struggle to start new projects is that we’ve grown accustomed to our mental comfort zones. These zones exist to protect us from uncertainty. Uncertainty feels overwhelming only because we focus on the entire journey—including the finish line—instead of the small steps required each day. We dream of six-pack abs instead of focusing on eating right consistently.

Instead of shocking your brain by forcing yourself into extreme discomfort, take on new projects in smaller chunks. Focus on the next step ahead. Do that, and you’ll climb the mountain. Keep staring at the peak, and even the first step will feel impossible. That’s how you acquire new skills at an unbelievable pace.