The Simple Wisdom of “Just Start”

“I never liked your writing before…but I’ll admit, you’re not bad now.”

Backhanded compliments like that are common to people like me.

Anyone who works in the public eye is always judged as a finished product, no matter how much potential they show:

“Yeah, he can play but his shooting form is raw.”
“She tells interesting stories but her writing style is trash.”
“I’m glad he’s in the gym but he’s still lookin’ chubby.”

Critiques like those may be valid at first, but the people who spout them are often blind to the seeds taking root.

The truth is, very few people start out being good at what they do. Most of them barely know what direction to take at the start. But you know what all the good ones do?

They start anyway.

I stumbled across an Ask Me Anything on Reddit recently that reminded me of this fact.

The guest was a popular music reviewer on YouTube, one who started as a humble content creator a decade ago.

Anyway, one of the most upvoted questions came from an insecure high-schooler who had a passion for multiple music genres. He said the popular creator inspired him to make reviews of his own, but he admitted that his film equipment wasn’t great, he was awkward in front of the camera, and he thought he’d be irrelevant since the review market is so saturated.

It was a case of dreams facing reality, and this guy was more aware than most about the roadblocks in his way.

Now you might expect the guy who “made it” to sympathize with these troubles. After all, he’s no stranger to competition himself. The internet can kill even the biggest of dreams, and he knew no amount of passion could erase that fact.

But instead of encouraging, humbling, or teaching this kid a lesson, the creator’s reply read like this:

“Just start.”

“Literally, just start.”

That was the advice of a man who made content for millions.

I couldn’t help but smile when I read that answer, because I’ve seen how true it is.

Anyone who ever did something great had to start—oftentimes years before seeing the fruits of their labor. That’s why if anyone asks me if they should blog, podcast, or make videos, I say, “You should have started two years ago.”

Genuine skill requires time, patience, and effort. You can’t worry about things on day one because future you won’t resemble day one.

Everything is an investment. No smart investor worries about the cost of an initial purchase. They know that money just gets them in the door.

You have to invest before you can grow. You have to try before you can learn. You have to choose before you can do.

Don’t underestimate your ability to improve. You can’t let the skill gap between you and people who’ve given years to their craft intimidate you…

All you should care about is future you.

“What weakness can I address this month? What can I read to improve my skills? How can I give people more of what they need?”

Ask those questions for a year and I promise you won’t stay the same.

All you have to do is get the ball rolling. Then challenge yourself to be better each time out.

Remember the old adage, “Fake it till you make it”? Well forget that, because you don’t need to fake anything.

Give yourself permission to make mistakes. Do stuff that’s so cringey now that you won’t stand to look at it later.

The world’s strongest people are the ones who aren’t afraid of looking like fools. So stop worrying about perfection and get your foot in the door instead.

There’s no need to fake it till you make it. Just make it till you can’t fake it.

Get the clumsy, awkward, and cringey stuff out the way so it’s impossible to miss later. Keep learning until the work and the growth become so obvious that no one could possibly fake what you do.

That is how you achieve mastery. You work towards the future while everyone else stares at the present.

You don’t need to be good enough now. Who cares what their eyes see now?

Future you is why you invest. Future you is why you persevere: