We don’t learn if we never try, but we often give up before seeing the fruit of our labor. Why?
Today was a good day until it wasn’t. The morning started as many do, with a shower and a hot cup of coffee consumed while scrolling through social media posts shared in the six hours I was able to sleep. My daily to-do list came next, including numerous high-priority emails that took up my morning. Then came the time to create fresh content, which is the best part of any day, but then things went awry.
I thought I did everything right. The videos I shot for our company YouTube page looked good and covered hard-hitting topics. We were inspiring young musicians and music professionals to rethink their priorities and focus their talents where they would make the largest impact. The only problem was, the videos had no sound. Not a beep or boop, and certainly not a single syllablemof the many words I spoke. The mic wasn’t working, and we didn’t know until it was too late.
Upset and determined, I returned to my studio with plans of repeating my actions. I did it once, so doing it all over again should be easy enough, right?
Wrong. The words didn’t come out right, the lighting was off, and my cadence was lost. My anxiety over getting the video done was interfering with my ability to make the video. Classic creative irony.
At that point, my body felt one step away from implosion. I was ready to be done with everything. I wanted to sell my stuff, cancel my accounts, quit my job, and throw a fit. I was being childish, maybe worse. I wanted what I already made to be good enough, but it wasn’t, and I couldn’t deal with that.
But then something happened.
I spoke to my partner, who happens to work in mindfulness, and she listened to my story. The more I said the more foolish I felt for every word that came out. She didn’t offer a word of criticism, but did apologize for things not going my way. She suggested I take a break. That I eat lunch, catch my breath, and step outside. “Get some fresh air. The dog needs to go outside, so do that and see how you feel.”
Never one to argue with a sane person listening to my insane ramblings, I heeded her advice. I took the dog out, drank some water, and allowed myself to let go of the frustrations I felt toward the videos. What happened was done, and no amount of whining to the heavens with my fists clenched would change that. If content was going to happen today, then I was going to have to pull myself together and get on with it.
But then it hit me. I was mad that the thing I wanted to make didn’t come out the way I wanted. My anger had nothing to do with my career or my passion for the craft, but rather a false idea of what I needed to accomplish to be satisfied with myself. Making a video today wasn’t going to change my life forever, and it wasn’t even a requirement from my job. I had placed the pressure to perform a certain way on myself, so the anger I felt was my fault. My craft didn’t do this to me, nor did the technology. I did it.
As creatives, we often set goals for ourselves that have nothing to do with our competency or the pursuit of our dreams. We fool ourselves into believing the next video or song or album will change everything, but what are we trying to change? Is the pursuit of creativity not exactly what we seek? Are we not trying to make things because creating is our calling?
I create. I’ve been working full-time as someone who creates stuff for over a decade. Today’s video would not have changed that in any way, shape, or form. It was just another thing I made out of millions I have made or aspire to make in the years ahead. Not being able to share it with you hurts, but it doesn’t mean I’m a failure. As long as I keep creating, then I’m doing exactly what I want, and that is what matters most.
Making mistakes doesn’t mean we’ve failed. Making mistakes means we are continuing to learn, to try, and to grow. That’s a great thing.
