Take surfing photos. From the water. This is a perfect example of what happens when you procrastinate. A perfect example of when you say to yourself, “I’ll do it tomorrow.” Let me explain.

When I lived on the west coast I was two blocks from one of the most popular and best surf breaks in southern California. On any day with a good swell, the lineup would simply be crowded. There were the regulars who seemingly didn’t have jobs, who would pull up their vans and spend the day. There were the before-work surfers, the lunchtime surfers and the steal-a-few-waves-on-my-way-home surfers. There were groms. There were newbies mucking up everybody’s line. Sprinkle in a few paddle boarders and kayakers and the surf looked like a busy day on the runways at Logan. I would frequently walk down by the surf spot. Sometimes I would snap photos from the shore. I even attended a few surf competitions with the hope of grabbing some great action shots.

As an avid amateur photographer, my To Do list included documenting this local surf scene. Primarily the lifestyle of it all. Portraits that included the fit, lean, tanned bodies, the long sun-bleached hair, bikinis and surfboards. Doing so meant gaining the trust of the surfers, which included immersing myself in the scene. Be there often, start conversations, share the photos. Basically become one of the regulars without actually surfing. It was always on my mind to do it, but I always said to myself that I would do it tomorrow. After all, the surfers would always be there and the ocean certainly wasn’t going anywhere. What I failed to realize was that I might not be there.

Cut to the present. I’ve always lived near the ocean, and although I’m currently not a stone's throw away as in the past, I am only a short drive. Last winter I witnessed that there is a local and very dedicated surf scene here on the North Shore. I say dedicated because around here most of the surf occurs during storms or winter, when the Atlantic is ridiculously cold. Dedicated is perhaps the wrong word to describe these hardy souls whom I saw as my second chance.

I envisioned the grainy black and white portraits I’d snap as they exited the water. Their cheeks swollen from the cold. Ice chunks on their beards. The pain on their faces partially hidden by the elation of doing something they love. I snapped some action shots from the beach. I engaged a few as they escaped the clutch of the frigid surf. I learned names. We talked about surfing. I told them what I would like to do with my camera. The few I talked to seemed onboard, even excited to get their photo snapped. One guy has even offered to teach me how to surf, something else that didn’t get checked on my To Do list in California.

If you're an artist, you often experience lulls. You become bored. Or maybe lose your motivation. New projects help you regain your momentum. New projects help you grow. I could certainly work on this project from the shore, but I’ve “been there, done that.” No, getting in the water and shooting is a different beast. Learning about the surf, wave breaks and how to get the shot means growing as a photographer.

It’s going to be incredibly exciting. However, it’s also going to be challenging and scary. It will require me to face my fear of the unknown, which means growing on a personal and emotional level. As I always say, “if you’re not growing you’re dying.” This weekend I’m going to grow. And I’m going to do so by jumping in - with two flippered feet.