Posted in Life in general, Writers at 9:20 am by Marion

Despite genuine effort, I flail like a wooden top.

I’m talking about tap dancing.

Yes, dear Readers, I’ve always wanted to tap dance. So while I can diagram a sentence, spot a dependent clause or take down a hanging modifier at 50 paces, when it comes to dancing I am the proverbial fish out of water.

Last night had my first tap class in some years. My teacher was very nice and complimented me for catching on so fast. She was being too kind. At one point, after completing some kind of backward flap across the floor a few times, I grabbed the barre and sank to the floor. Hopeless!

Dancing is probably the least natural fit for a serious, focused writer-type who’s constantly worried about errors and whose goal in life is to reach some mythical place of pure and beautiful prose. Toss me in a room of people having fun and I don’t know how to act.

Sure, I can do the simple “flap” or “brush.” I can even carry out a “ball-change” and a “cramp roll.”

When it’s time to move quickly while coordinating the left and right feet, I disintegrate.

My teachers are cheerful, sunny folks, full of energy and optimism … limber, free of body and unbound by self-consciousness. So comfortable and at ease. They inspire me.

The class meets weekly and I’m going to stick with it, no matter how discouraged I become. No matter how badly I’m gasping for air!

A five … six … seven … eight … flap, shuf-ful, flap, flap, ball-change … stomp!

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