What the start looks like
The messiness of trying something new.
How many times have you avoided trying something new out of fear of being bad at it?
As someone who has been a perfectionist their whole life, I always shied away from doing anything I wasn’t good at. When I was a kid, I stayed away from all sports (didn’t even try), and I quit ballet, piano and drama because I was too embarrassed when I made mistakes. I was easily discouraged, especially when I looked around me and saw everyone else excelling in these activities—clearly underestimating the practice and effort that went into developing their skills.
Now that I’m a parent, I see the same perfectionist tendency in my daughter and feel like I’m constantly fighting to eradicate it (as a parent, you make it your mission to prevent your kid from adopting the qualities you don’t like about yourself.)
When my daughter started school, she struggled with writing letters and numbers. Her S’s would always come out as 2’s and vice versa. “It’s not perfect. I can’t do it,” she would shout before stomping off and sulking alone in a corner on the living room floor.
I’d pick up the piece of paper to look at what she had written: a mishmash of scribbles and unidentifiable characters. “It doesn’t need to be perfect. It’s OK to make mistakes because that’s how we get better,” I’d reassure her while trying to convince her to give it another shot. It was never lost on me that I, too, could benefit from taking my own advice more often.
For so long, this need to be perfect held me back. I wouldn’t make sufficient space for the learning part of the process and would talk myself out of doing something (just like my daughter with writing her S’s.) Or, it would be the complete opposite, and it would take me forever to get started because I had to make sure I was doing it perfectly, which was the case with freelancing.
Before I began freelance writing, I spent months researching how to set up my business, fine-tuning my portfolio and meticulously creating my website. That time between having the idea to start freelancing and actually putting myself out there felt excruciatingly long because I wanted to appear professional and like I knew exactly what I was doing (which is an impossible expectation when you’re just starting.)
Not to say that you shouldn’t work hard in the beginning or that there’s no value in taking the time to do something well. But sometimes, this pressure to make no mistakes and be really good at something—before even doing it—can suck the fun and life out of your journey. It’s easy to lose sight of what the start is supposed to look like: messy. A little awkward. And full of trial and error.
I loved reading
‘s piece, Leave room for the amateur, from the How to be a woman on the internet newsletter. In it, she writes about the benefits of keeping things low-stakes and giving yourself the space to grow and evolve. From freelancing to starting Seen Library and her newsletter, she shares how everything she’s done has been amateur—and how it’s worked for her.Her advice:
“Leave room for the amateur. And embrace it. In a time when the internet compels you to look perfectly packaged up, ready-to-sell, and fully realized, push back on it. Instead, make space for yourself to grow and find your way and develop organically. See the benefits in not being so sure, so established. See how the need to be perfect or make comparisons with others who seem to have it all figured out often paralyzes us and prevents us from starting at all. See how letting go of those things can lead to improvement, growth, and even fun.”
This advice became the foundation for how I wanted to approach my newsletter. For the first time, I didn’t feel the need to have something all figured out before diving in. Instead, I wanted to keep it as organic as possible by not having set expectations of what the newsletter should be or having it tied to any kind of results. I didn’t want to limit myself to a specific “niche,” covering just one topic, but keep myself open to writing about whatever interests me (while hoping it resonates with others, too.)
I don’t have my ‘About’ page set up yet and haven’t figured out a regular cadence for the newsletters—things that, in the past, I would’ve felt made me look “amateur” but now don’t bother me at all. I know I’ll figure it out at some point.
In accepting that it won’t be perfect, there’s going to be ambiguity and mistakes, I’ve learned to appreciate the messy beginning. Because I can write faster and publish more when I’m not scrutinizing every word. And I have a lot more fun when I’m not overthinking the details or worrying about how others might perceive me. Rather than judging my newsletter for being all over the place or unprofessional, I actually feel proud of the fact that it reflects the different parts of me at this moment.
My work is no longer about striving for perfection but getting better—which, to me, feels a lot more attainable.
Some recommendations:
You can read Leave room for the amateur, and other thoughtful pieces and interviews on How to be a woman on the internet by
and (Consider subscribing to the newsletter—can’t recommend it enough.)This thread on why “people have to be bad before they can be good” tells the story of Colin Jost and Michael Che, the longest-running Weekend Update anchors in SNL’s history.
Instead of having my kids start over when they make mistakes, I’ve been using this tip from Dr. Becky Kennedy (@drbeckyatgoodinside) to show them it’s OK to not make something perfect.
Recently listened to this interview on the Second Life podcast with chef Courtney Storer, who has worked in high-profile kitchens around the world and is also responsible for bringing the restaurant world to life on The Bear as the show’s culinary producer. In the interview, she shares how she navigated multiple career pivots (she started her career in HR), insights into the intense kitchen environment and some of the mistakes she’s made throughout her journey (including making the worst soup in cooking school).