“READY! FIRE! AIM!”

Stepping outside of my comfort zone was terrifying … and very therapeutic.

My love-hate relationship with the whole notion of “comfort” hit critical mass one balmy evening last spring.

It all began when my friend Lee Reeves, a wonderful writer and co-founder of AZ Wordsmith – a group that meets in Prescott to read slice-of-life essays and fiction before a friendly crowd – suggested that I convert one of my own essays into a live performance. I’d just stepped away from the microphone after reading my latest offering, the true story of the time I purchased a beer while in the fast lane of a SoCal freeway.

“You should get on stage the next time we have Stories That Matter,” Lee said. “Your essays would be perfect for this. Please think about it.”

Stories That Matter, another gem co-founded by Lee, is a series in which members of the community share true tales – bawdy, heartbreaking, funny or even borderline horrific – in front of a live audience. The only restriction: Reading from a script was strictly verboten; the sharing had to be done straight from the heart.

As I pondered Lee’s kind offer, my brain processed only a few words, words that stood out like a glowing neon sign:

My elaborate, well-considered reply to Lee’s idea is as follows: “Uh …”

… as two bugged-out eyes briefly rolled back into my skull.

“No pressure,” Lee added, always upbeat and supportive. “These are fun gatherings, like your essays. You’ll do great. You really will.”

Pondering what this endeavor involved, performing a story, sans script, I hemmed and hawed for a roughly estimated 12.67 nanoseconds before replying with another “Uh,” followed by, “Lemme think about it.”

However, what I really meant was something, shall we say, a bit less open-minded: “HELL!! NO!!”

Look ... I can READ anything in front anyone, anywhere. But performing extemporaneously, without a script? The mere thought of doing that was terrifying.

I’ve based my entire life on varying degrees of comfort. My time on this Earthly Plane has always revolved around pain management, about ultimately kowtowing to fear. And, for whatever reason, I’ve always equated the very idea of stepping outside of my comfort zone, even testing the waters with one itty-bitty (and surprisingly hairy) toe, with a sense of dread.

That shifted, more than I realized, one day several weeks ago.

That’s when Neha Patel, a gifted writer, professional coach and member of our Write Hearted community, told an engaging story of the day she decided to go “off-script” during a stressful time. It involved stepping outside of her own comfort zone – and, for that matter, doing something downright silly – “glitching the Matrix,” as she put it.

And it worked beautifully.

After reading about her spontaneously goofy act, I again pondered the offer by Lee, about performing in Stories That Matter before a live audience. And three words immediately came to mind … three words I did not expect:

“Ready! Fire! Aim!”

… which scared the hell out of me.

But it didn’t stop me.

The result is a terrifyingly fun performance in the most recent Stories That Matter show, about a prank I pulled nearly a half-century earlier: I kidnapped a world-renowned celebrity and held him for ransom.

(For context: This performance occurred just one day after Thanksgiving.)

As I walked off stage, satisfied with the outcome and pleasantly surprised that I’d actually survived this giddy ordeal, another thought occurred to me, one that flashed into my awareness like another neon sign:

Indeed it does.

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Kudos to Neha Patel, who reminded me that acting without a perfect plan is often the wisest option; to Lee Reeves and Steven Kartstein, for believing in me when the mere thought of going on stage had me fighting to stay out of a fetal position; and to the wonderfully supportive Write Hearted community, for always being there through thick and thin.