I’m the kind of person who gets a lot of satisfaction from being good at things. I like feeling competent. I like having expertise. The problem is that, for most things that I find worth doing in life, there is no way to immediately be an expert. Learning to play an instrument, or speaking a new language, or writing a novel: none of these things can be done with any real level of skill the first time they are attempted.

I’ve had to train myself to accept that whatever I might want to do, I’ve already failed at it. And yes, I do think accepting this fact requires training. My tolerance for failure is one I’ve had to build up over time, slowly and intentionally. But it has been incredibly worth it—not just for my ability to gain new skills, but for my entire approach to learning and creativity.

When I go into a new pursuit with the expectation that I can and will be good at it right away, my inevitable failure disappoints me. It demotivates me from continuing to practice that pursuit, and thus removes the possibility that I will ever actually improve. But if I recognize and accept that I am already a failure, and that my attempts at whatever it is I’m trying to do are going to be pathetic for quite a while, I have to find other reasons to keep doing it.

I have to ask myself: would this instrument be worth playing even if I never feel capable of performing on stage? Would this language be worth learning even if I can never hold a conversation with a native speaker? Would this novel be worth writing even if I never publish it? What is motivating me to pursue this specific goal, beyond the desire to be good at something? What delight can I extract from it while still failing?