It is not the critic who counts; not the woman who points out how the strong woman stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the woman who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends herself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if she fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that her place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat
– speech (with minor changes) by Theodore Roosevelt, April 23, 1910.
Daring to compose – just like daring to do anything else – isn’t about being great, or getting great reviews, or being the person who gains the applause or the notice, or the fame, or the support of the establishment.
It’s about the willingness to put yourself forward and give it your best, despite what anyone thinks of you or your work.
So what are you waiting for?