So many things about writing are scary to me. It can be scary to begin a book and scary to go to conferences and scary to let your family read what you’ve written, let alone sending it off to agents and editors. It is, as I have found out in the last couple of weeks, scary to open the inbox and know that there could be rejections waiting.

I have a confession to make.

I’m even scared about blogging. I’ve never done this before.

What you’re reading right now is me losing my blogging virginity. Sure, I’ve commented on other people’s blogs from time to time, but I’ve never made a post. I’ve certainly never had a blog of my own where I posted recipes or thoughts about life or pictures of my incredibly cute kids.

And yet, here I am, not only writing for anyone to see, but writing about writing. It’s sort of like cooking your first meal and, by the way, it’s Thanksgiving dinner. Or learning to river raft on the Colorado. Why am I making my maiden voyage in a situation where the stakes and expectations are just a bit higher?

Because there are things in life that I’m proud to say I’ve never done (for example, meth), and things I’ve never done because I’m scared of putting myself out there. And it turns out that’s just not a good enough reason anymore.

So here I go. I have no insight to offer beyond this gem from Eleanor Roosevelt:

Please tell Eleanor that this counts for at least a week.