Starting anything new is a challenge. Actually, less of a challenge and more like trying to grasp a fleeting thought. A thought that flutters by every so often to remind us there is something else we want to do but we haven’t done. It’s the promise that we are capable of learning new skills, following a passion, and creating something we never imagined we could create. That thought flutters by over and over until we either grab it and use it, or we let it go and convince ourselves that we were never really interested in the first place.

When I started writing, the idea of writing the best story ever told was what I locked on to (I know, I know, I was a realist!). It happened by chance at an offsite audit (yes I said audit) in the middle of nowhere. The place had a bunk, food, an office, and that was it. We had a lot of spare time with very little to do. For some reason my fluttering thought came to me at a moment when I was nearly dying of boredom. I wrote for hours, which at the time seemed like a lot. I got excited as the story started to form in my mind. I wrote images, dialogue, and even managed to create some tension.

It didn’t last long.

I wrote the beginning of something that excited me. A few pages of a story that I sent to my friends for encouragement. I received decent feedback and then promptly dropped the thought.

But why does this happen? Why does something that excites us still become background noise in our life?

Other than the obvious overwhelming-ness of life (which can be overpowering and incredibly distracting), I think it has something to do with our belief that the geniuses in the art community have the magic formula, the secret gift that the rest of us could never touch.

But is this true?

Sure natural talent exists, but for most artists (and for most careers in general) the artist had to learn how to be good at it. The painter didn’t know how to mix perfect colour the first time she painted a portrait. The musician couldn’t play a string of notes the first time he picked up a flute. It took time and patience and a desire to learn.

This is why, for many people, we give up after the first few tries. There is something inside of us that realizes the talent we want to have doesn’t match the talent we currently have. There is a disconnect between where we want to be and where we are. Many of us don’t believe we can learn how to bridge that gap because we’ve never actually tried.

To learn how to be good at anything, we have to put in time. Sounds basic right? Somewhere in adulthood we lose the excitement associated with learning. We fall out of love with it. Our curiosity fades and we choose to instead watch other people do the thing that excites us.

Where’s the fun in that?

Remember what it was like to learn a skill? Tying your shoe, cooking macaroni, spelling your name. As a child these accomplishments were so much fun, it was easy to love learning.

The love of learning is still in us, even if we haven’t accessed it in a while. We need to stop thinking so much about the end product and start falling in love with the process. After all, this is where all the time for any project is spent, right? Why only think about the end when we are still at the beginning?

Curiosity is our fleeting thought. It is the ‘what if?’ of our imagination. What if we tried something outside of our normal routine? What if we became really good at something new? Our curiosity is what drives the desire to try something that excites us, to go out and buy the supplies for our masterpiece. We stall our momentum when we feel the fear of not being good enough. Not wanting to show our friends and family our mediocre version of the thing we created. All of us want to be the best at something, we want to be talented. Disappointment in our own work (or worse, negative criticism from others) can crush curiosity.

At first your talent may not reach your standards and that is OK!

If you can learn to love the process, learn to love learning new skills, and accept the idea that you have to put time in to become great, then curiosity can turn into action. When this happens, you can learn a new skill for the fun of it. Write your book, sing that song, learn that instrument, paint that picture.

Do it because it’s fun. Fall in love with learning and let your curiosity run wild!