This article first appeared on Scribing with Scout in March 2019. I am re-posting it now because we all need to go outside of our comfort zone once in awhile. Plus I get a kick out of the awkwardness of it all! Enjoy!

Awkwardly, I enter the room and quickly pick a seat, before anyone notices or acknowledges me.  A selection near the door.  This position specifically offers a quick exit, should I need one, as I am thinking “bathroom, boredom, phone call…”

A few people have already filtered into the room and engaged in a pre-class discussion with the instructor.  I am immediately intimidated by what I perceive to be their moxie, as they chat-up the person in charge about their personal projects.  I purposely arrived early to locate the classroom, garner a good seat, and get my supplies in order:  pen, paper, water bottle.  Whew.  But my peers beat me to the punch by arriving earlier than I anticipated and by getting in a few pointers ahead of time.

More anxious adults filter in.  The classroom suddenly seems packed with oversized winter coats, grown-up bodies pouring out of desks made for adolescents, and substantial egos ready to demonstrate why they are attending this discussion on a frosty winter night.

As it turns out, my strategic planning might also be my undoing.  The instructor is informing us that by way of taking attendance, we must introduce ourselves AND state why we are attending.  First off, I do not make a practice of talking about myself, so I’m already out of my comfort zone.  Second, based on my precise selection of seats, I am either going to have to introduce myself first…or dead last

A quick glance at the clock as I try to figure out how much time I have to prepare for this impromptu introduction.  The people on the other side of the room are forced to go first, poor bastards.  Turns out, the instructor is giving everyone feedback on their introduction.  Tough night.

Another quick glance at the clock as I now try to calculate how long this whole intro phase will take with the feedback added; 16 people in attendance, some talking more about themselves than others, so I figure close to an hour.  That’s nearly 60-minutes for me to anxiously anticipate speaking to a Room Full of Strangers about myself.  Oh, and about the ‘piece’ I am currently working on (i.e., writing).

Remember, I showed up bearing pen, paper, and water bottle.  No lap top, no manuscript, no rough draft.

I’m relaxed for the introductions from the first two rows of ‘students.’  Mostly, their introductions are interesting, their ideas inspiring, and their demeanors friendly.  A few go off script and ramble, but the instructor does a decent job of keeping everyone on track.  I’m copiously jotting down notes, trying to glean anything remarkable she might be bestowing upon her captivated subjects, even though she has yet to instruct us.

The line is inching closer to my row; I’m formulating my ideas between my narrow breaths.  The closer it is to my turn to speak, the more difficult it is for me to concentrate simultaneously on the words of my peers and the confusion in my brain.  The tug of war is fierce, but I quiet my thoughts by finally remembering the inspiration for my concept.  I scrawl it across a clean notebook page with a pen I struggled to dig from the bottom of my bag because my initial pen broke mid-notetaking – I kid you not – take one last deep breath, and I’m ready to share.

What can I say about myself, about my ideas, my dreams, my hopes, that could possibly interest this assorted group of professionals, some who have changed careers, others who have left their careers to pursue this new venture, and others in the room like me who left careers to raise a family, all aiming for the same golden ring?

It turns out this Room Full of Strangers didn’t bring lap tops or manuscripts or rough drafts either.  Like me, they brought pens and paper and water bottles.  They also brought open minds, generous support, and genuine optimism.

It also turns out the Room Full of Strangers like my idea. So does the instructor.  Initially I felt like a cliché stating it out loud, but there is positive feedback and nodding of heads in agreement.  What a strange feeling to be comforted by a Room Full of Strangers; safe, no judgement, inspired.

That was worth the price of admission.