First, let it be sucky
Volume 2, Number 6 | June 2008
I'm as amazed by people who are terrified to express themselves as I am by the people who should
be.
Okay, I'm being glib; I totally get why people are afraid to express themselves. It's really scary to hang
yourself out there at first. The problem is, there's no way you can get better at anything--writing, speaking, violin, tennis--without doing it. Even
if you're passionate about it. Heck, especially if you're passionate about it: the more you care, the more excruciating it is to be not-good at
something.
Never have I heard this expressed so well (and charmingly!) as in this interview clip of master
storyteller and NPR superhero, Ira Glass. (And for the record, I found it via--you guessed it--my fave social media resource these days,
the Twitter.)
In it, he talks about the gap between taste and ability. Specifically, he says that anyone who has a passion or affinity for something--writing,
let's
say, or storytelling, like Ira--starts out with a high level of taste and a low level of ability. Because you just can't be good without a heckuva
lot
of practice.
If you can hang in there, however, and work at it, you will eventually close the gap. It just may take a
long, long time--longer than you think it will going in, which is kind of good, because if we knew how tough some things were going to be going in,
we'd probably abandon them before we started.
The problem is that most people get discouraged in that vast middle. And when I say "most," I include
myself in that big lump. I can't tell you how many times I've thought about tossing in the towel. (Still do, some days.)
I can, however, share a few tricks that helped me
keep my pecker up, as Gramps used to say, until the feeling passed.
First, I save stuff from when I really was sucky. My entire blog, for example, is up
there for anyone to see. And anyone who goes back to those first entries back in November of 2004 will quickly see exactly how sucky I truly was. It
both keeps me humble and, perversely, serves as a form of encouragement--much like the few sucky drawings that survived various childhood
moves (see the masterwork just up and to the right if you doubt me).
If you're an actor, save all your old headshots and resumes and student-film tape. If you're a designer,
save at least representative samples of your early suckage. Writers, I give you your high school journals. Or mine. 'Nuff said.
Second, I savor every story of triumph over adversity and 10-year "overnight" successes.
Stories like Ira Glass's. Or those of Michael J. Fox or Naomi Watts, about to turn around and leave Hollywood when That Call came in.
By his own admission, Steve Martin was sucky for years until he wasn't; he ends his outstanding memoir, Born Standing
Up,
just before he actually achieves success (after long years of toiling in very unfunny trenches).
Equally inspiring are the stories of people who, for whatever reason, found success later in life: Kathy Joosten, who started
acting in
her 40s and didn't land Mrs.
Landingham
until much later. Raymond Carver, Raymond Chandler, Julia Child--late bloomers, all. (For more, check
out this MetaFilter
thread.)
I even started a file called "Cool People." It doesn't get much hokier than that. But the file is a
constant reminder of what can be done, if one sets one's mind to it. And by "one," I mean "me."
Third, I surround myself with support. Cannot overemphasize the importance of having True
Believers, fans and other people in your corner. What you're doing is hard, hard work: you're trying to bring your talents and abilities up to the
level of the people who are already there. Believe me, you'll get discouraged enough on your own; the last thing you need are people to make you feel
worse. Cut them from your life or, if that's not possible, cultivate some buffering techniques. The relentlessly cheery smile (in public) is a good
one, as is laughing it off, changing the subject and calling your sponsor--er, seeking out a supportive pal. Or calling your sponsor. Or both.
Support also means cultivating the habits most conducive to success in your field (you know what they are,
and they're not the kinds of partying, numbing things that people who aren't trying to succeed in the face of crazy odds do.) It means immersing
yourself in the best examples of what you do--playing with better tennis players, as it were--and seeking out the best advisers, teachers and
mentors.
* * *
Anyway, those are the things I do to keep my spirits up when the gap between my taste and my abilities
becomes painfully obvious.
What, fellow travelers, do you do?
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