The worst part of creative work is also its best part in what makes it thrilling: the lack of guarantee that it will work.
Possibility A
When we sit down to draft your short story, to sketch your illustration, or to create a new dish in the kitchen, there’s an uncertainty we have to face.
It’s possible that readers will skip our short story only after reading the first paragraph and search for something else to read.
It’s possible that our illustration elicits “praise” only out of pity, as in, “Oh… that’s… nice, honey.”
And it’s possible that nobody wants to finish our new dish dish after grimacing through the first few mouthfuls they forced down out of politeness, let alone ask for seconds.
Possibility B
But there are also other possibilities.
There is the possibility our short story is shared amongst a reader’s circle of literature enthusiasts immediately after being read, and is read again and again for years after.
There is the possibility our illustration is not only purchased, but friends of the person who purchased our illustration asks the owner, “Where can I get a copy?”
And it’s possible that our guests who finish their first serving of our experimental dish ask, “What’s the recipe?” And we get to say with a smile, “I actually just tried making this for the first time today.”
Creative Work is a Gamble
To go from possibility to successful outcome requires embracing the risk that what we aspire to create might fail, that it might not work. And that’s the gamble of creative work to begin with.
The possibility of “failing” is what makes attempting creative work so terrifying.
While the possibility of “succeeding” is what makes endeavoring in creative work so thrilling.
Creative work is a gamble. And though it feels immensely risky in all its possibilities of being rejected, ridiculed, criticized, there are also upsides of endeavoring in creative work, even when we “fail”.
From every gamble, we can gain the pride that we tried despite the odds. We can escape the torment that is the trapped feeling of wondering what if? We are released from the regret of wishing we spent more time pursuing creative work, of wishing we had at least tried.
But Wait, There’s More
Unlike casino games, with every failed attempt, we also learn what doesn’t work. And learning what doesn’t work helps hint at what might work instead if we can be courageous enough to try again.
Failure can help fortify us against future failure. Instead of being an unknown foe, failure can become a familiar friend, one who helps foster the wisdom of experience and instill the intuition of skill until, eventually, succeeding feels effortless.
When we endeavor in creative work, it’s possible that it might not work. But even when it doesn’t work, we can still benefit. We can shift our mindset from (A) hesitant to try to (B) curious towards figuring this out.
The Real Risk
And isn’t that worth the risk?
Because the real risk is actually not taking the risk. There is betting on an idea, and then there’s investing the time and effort to learn a skill, to improve at a craft, to solve a problem. The latter has a much higher chance of succeeding given enough time and effort.
And despite our creative endeavors not working at times, the reward of what we gain, what we can accomplish, and who we become is worth the risk.
