Taking the Plunge

First times are sometimes fraught with fright. But all they are are firsts. Nothing more, nothing less. Imaginary fear silenced by the first step over the precipice.

I've wanted to take a writing class for as long as I can remember. The last time was Journalism 101 in 1990. That was when I was newly embarking on a career change. Testing out the waters.

Then a big wave came in and knocked me off my feet. Divorce can have far reaching repercussions. My career stood still.

For years I made excuses. Not enough time. Too many other responsibilities. The usual. Then I made my mid-life detour and quit working entirely. Plenty of time to do what I wanted. But did I write? Yes, a little. But I only dabbled. Never giving it any structure or support. The new fear was money. I balked at spending on something that was only a hobby. The one thing I had never lost interest in, yet never given much more than the time of day.

So today I plopped down the big check. Little more than theater and dinner for two. Not such a big check after all. It took a lot of emotional coaching to get past denial. It's always easier to make excuses than to make tracks.

I just got the confirmation call. Creative Writing 101 starts in three weeks. And I'm in!

There's nothing like the first time. And it's never too late to begin. Right after getting the call I checked my email and found an announcement from a friend about her first book. Her bio cites a 65-year career as an actress. An after eighty first time must be as exhilirating as the very first time.