My Sunday Stories will come out later now because my dance-exercise studio, Impact Fitness, added a Sunday morning class and canceled a couple of the weekday sessions I used to attend.

I began going to Dance Trance classes in 2008, and I loved it from the beginning. The choreographed, energetic routines made me sweat—a lot—and I’d much rather dance than do other forms of exercise.

But I’m not that good at it. I’m slow to learn the new routines and have difficulty remembering them once I do. I walk out the studio door and forget everything I ever knew. I don’t think I have enough room in my brain to store all the steps and nuances of some 500+ routines.

I keep going back, even though I’m old enough to be the grandmother of some of the young’uns who attend. Many of them were raised in dance studios, so they see a new routine once and know how to do it.

When newcomers ask how long I’ve been coming, I tell them but quickly add that I’m an example of persistence, not ability. As soon as the music starts, they know why I say that.

When I was a child, every year, my mom asked me, “Is this the time we’re going to start Miss Jackie’s dance class?” A resounding no followed that question as I went off to play with my Tonka trucks in the sand pile my dad brought home for me whenever he built a new house. Now, I wish I had taken all those dance lessons.

A therapist who helped me for years knew what a perfectionist I was. I wouldn’t even try anything I didn’t already know I was good at. I gave up so many things—including my dream job as a feature writer and photographer within the first month—because it didn’t come easily. This therapist suggested I take up something new and never get better at it. I wouldn’t do it.

So, this morning, I’m off to practice doing something I’m not good at, and the most amazing part to me is that I love it. I enjoy every minute of dancing, even when I turn when no one else does, go left when everyone else goes right, or stand there with a blank look, waiting for muscle memory to kick in. Thankfully, the studio’s motto is no mistakes, only solos. I do a lot of solos.

My therapist would be proud.

Many people feel that way about writing. They fear trying and are sure they won’t be good at it. They think they haven’t experienced anything worth writing about, but they are wrong. We are usually terrible critics and judge our attempts harshly.

So, today, lock the critic in the closet and write for ten minutes. You may impress yourself. Then, share what you’ve written in the comments section below, and we’ll cheer you on.