Welcome to This Might Go Terribly; I am so glad you’re here. This is my little corner of the internet where I document what happens when a deeply anxious person decides to become a live storyteller, among other brave things. I’m pretty sure we’re already each other’s ride-or-die, right?
Yep, we’re besties; there’s no two ways about it, and my sudden deep and complete attachment to you is not creepy at all!
If you like the vibe already, you can subscribe here so you don’t miss future stories and experiments in bravery.
Since you’re checking this post out, I’m guessing you may be a little like me in some way or another, like
Maybe you’re a giant worry machine, or
You can’t help but punish yourself for having the audacity to take up space and be alive, or
Maybe you’re just waking up to find yourself smack dab in the thick of it, realizing that a lot of what you’ve told yourself about yourself is probably wrong, and what the heck do you do about it now, or
Maybe you’re trying to rebuild your self-esteem, or, like me, you never really had one (thanks, Mom!), and you’re starting from scratch, or
Maybe you’re just a looky-loo, and you like peeking in on how other people are faring, or
You (pleasepleasepleaseplease) are already a fan of my writing!
Extra credit: Maybe you’ve heard me tell a story? You HAVE?! YAY!!
These are all excellent reasons to be here, and I’m sure there are even better ones I haven’t thought to write down yet.
I tell true stories onstage, even though the idea of being looked at and listened to makes my stomach twist. That’s the really nice way of putting it. I could be rude and tell you about all the places I’ve taken an anxiety poop, but I won’t. Not here, anyway. Not THIS time.
This Might Go Terribly is about learning to do it anyway. It’s part field notes, part dispatch from behind the mic: how a late-blooming misfit like me wrestles with stage fright, self-doubt, how to (try to) make friends with the world, and the strange growths and setbacks I’ve experienced just from choosing to be seen.
On the Page is where the essays live — true stories, short-form memoir, flash, the occasional unclassifiable. Some of these eventually get told out loud onstage, which brings us to . . .
Page to Stage, a kind of ‘process show-and-tell.’ I’ll share both the written story and the story as I told it (video/audio, live onstage/live from my hidey-hole), and what happens in between, even when my voice (hands, head, chest, knees . . . oh, man, don’t get me started on the flop sweat) shakes. I’ll probably talk to some other storytellers, too, because I know a LOT of hella talented people and maybe if I listen closely, I can learn something from them, or, *ahem*, steal something from them, and one day I’ll be THE BEEEEESSSSSTTTTT!
Backstage is the show behind the show, dispatches from producing In a Nutshell Storytelling and WILDCARD! as a late-blooming, over-anxious ruminator, other brave-anyway stuff, show dates?! Dog pics??? Shorter, looser, unreliable schedule.
This newsletter is all about sharing how I’m trying to stop hiding from the world and start embracing the life I have left in a way that will let me enjoy it a little more and (bonus!) torture myself a little less. Expect humor, hurt, darkness, cussing, comedy, therapy, honesty, anxiety, fixation, rumination, and hopefully, eventually, mercy and maybe even a tiny bit of grace.
Oh, and true stories told onstage, anyway. In spite of. Even tho.
And I hope you’ll join me. If you’ve ever felt like you were too scared, too old, or too “weird” to be a tryer and a doer, this one’s for you. We’re in this together. We really are. Tell me what you’re doing in your life and/or with your anxiety brain. Have you learned how to accept uncertainty, to choose it, even? Are you performing or showing up or trying to, at least? I want to know all your secrets, bestie!
And just as you’re here rooting for me as I search for ways to accept myself, I’m also rooting for you to grow where you need to grow and throw away what you need to throw away.
Thanks again for subscribing. Please keep in touch.
Sincerely, Amy Bee
Want to Support This Work?
Everything here is free, and the essays always will be.
Extra backstage goodies will eventually show up. Pledging now tells me you want it, and I will absolutely take that personally (in the good way, okay, also the crying way).
Paid subscribers get the deep satisfaction of knowing they are financially supporting a very anxious person’s artistic ambitions. Some of these stories eventually make their way to the stage, even!
This Might Go Terribly deals candidly with mental illness and tough issues, often relayed in a dark and humorous manner. You will most likely hear or read swear words.
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