A LIKELY STORY: THIS IS ONE OF THOSE FIRST TIMES FOR EVERYTHING

The first time you do something is always the hardest.

I remember the first time I rode a bicycle; with one strong push, I felt the bicycle begin to move beneath me, almost magically. I must have gone about 20 feet, the wheels wobbling as I held a death-like grip on the handlebars.

My feet peddled clumsily as I laughed, not knowing in 60 seconds I would be on the ground, tears streaming, more a victim of wounded pride than the barely-bleeding scraped knee. The whole event had been exhilarating and scary all at the same time.

Writing my first column is kind of like that.

The words seem to come magically and clumsily at the same time, too. I'll write a sentence, re-read it, delete it and start again. If I were writing in an older time or one devoid of computers, my wastebasket would be full of wadded up pieces of paper and pencil shavings.

In fact, you're probably reading the third or fourth draft, the result of an old college professor's edict. I can still hear his soft, Southern voice: "Re-writing is the key to good writing. Anything else is just typing."

Re-writing makes perfect sense to the creative writer who has plenty of time to write and re-write a fictional piece. However, this theory has no place in the world of journalism and its inherently grouchy editors who have no time and less patience.

Actually, this isn't the very first column I've ever written but it certainly feels like it is. In college, I wrote a column called "Half-Baked." Many people thought it was appropriately named.

I shared my opinions on life, liberty and the pursuit of a degree in what I thought were whimsical, sometimes downright funny columns.

Later, when I got a job at this fine publication, I began writing a column called "A Day in the Life" for one of its targeted publications, the Jackson U.S.A. Signal. Some of you may have seen it.

I mostly wrote about my impending wedding to a beautiful young woman who loves me for reasons that are beyond me. As if that wasn't enough, Lori offers seemingly limitless patience, sensibility and an understanding that are requirements of any world leader or someone misguided enough to marry me.

The wedding, by the way, is less than three weeks away. I don't know if I'm nervous or not, but I've been having recurring dreams that on the wedding day I lift the veil to find a grinning skull where Lori's face would normally be. This a different kind of scary.

What would dear old Sigmund have to say about that, I wonder?

Anyway, while I may have written columns before, this is the first one that will appear in a daily newspaper where potentially thousands of people will read it. Or at least my close friends and family.

And that's scary. Kind of like my first bicycle ride. And getting married. Like a lot of things in life.

But all of these things are also exhilarating, rewarding and worth doing.

Which is why I got back on that bike the same afternoon I fell off.

And why I'll see you here again. Next week.

~Scott Moyers is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian. Mark Bliss' column, which was published on Tuesdays, will appear on Sundays.