It is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission

The other day Matt K and I were talking about regret. I never had any for a long time. Decades. And then I had a ton. There is still wishful thinking and a sense of time wasted. I did a lot with my time, but there was so much I never even attempted because I thought for sure I would be bad at it. Or good at it. This is why I never learned to ollie very well and why I didn’t pursue writing as a legit career until I was about 28. At 28, I had been freelancing steadily for 12 years and publishing a zine, and I still was under the mistaken belief that I did not have what it took to be a writer. Matt convinced me I should try, and I did, and I realized about three weeks into “trying” that could have been writing full time for years, and my cowardice — fear of my own ambition got in the way. And that is my regret. That I lived without a sense of permission for so long.

Words I really needed to read just now, in a time of self-doubt, from a writer and a woman I admire.