There is a fine line between holding ourselves to high standards, and demanding perfection from ourselves. High standards are important; perfection is impossible. One of the ways that we measure our own performance is by comparing our work to the work of those we admire. Ira Glass has some smart things to say about that. The other way we measure our performance is by asking others how they think we are doing. And we all know what it feels like to have other people tell us how we're doing.

One of the things I learned at my small liberal arts college was how to receive feedback graciously, and how to make it work for me instead of against me. I’m grateful for all of those seminar-style classes, all of those writing workshops, where I had to read a rough draft out loud – a rough draft! a thing that’s not even a real thing yet! – and then listen as one by one the whole group shared their thoughts.
 
It is easy to get defensive and try to explain the choice you made. “Well, what I meant by that was…” It’s easy to shut someone down. “I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say here.” It’s easy to dismiss opinions that don’t make sense to you.
 
It’s also easy to take feedback as god’s truth. “These people are smarter than me, they must be right.” It’s easy to doubt yourself. “Maybe I should go down this other path.”  It’s easy to feel like a failure, like you aren’t good at what you’re doing. Like you’ll never get it right.
 
The truth lies somewhere in the middle.

I have a tried and true method for receiving and processing feedback that I promise to share with you next week. Feedback can be such a helpful tool if we can get over our discomfort and take it in.

Of course a playwright coined that term for jealousy.

My wise friend Meg once told me, when I was ranting and railing at all the playwrights who were not me who were getting produced, “Jealousy is a map.” My immediate response was “A map to where? A map to the party full of everyone who’s happier and more successful than me? A map to the nice neighborhood where I can’t afford to live? A map to a clear career path, one with a job description and promotions every 18 months?”
 
(Fair warning – don’t give me advice if you’re not prepared for sarcastic and hyperbolic backtalk.)
 
But I see what she means. Jealousy points towards what we want. Sometimes it’s not literal – I don’t want to write for television, but I am jealous of that room full of smart writers. That community. My goal isn’t to land a gig writing for TV, it’s to find my people.
 
Where does your jealousy map lead?

Learning how to say “I don’t know” is almost as empowering as learning how to say a proper “no.”
 
In both cases, we are fighting against cultural pressure to accommodate others. Women especially are expected to be “agreeable” and “helpful” and “nice” at all times. Admitting that you don’t know something feels like admitting to failure – you are stupid, incompetent, unqualified.
 
But what happens when you say “I don’t know” is that you become human. The person asking you the question feels a kinship with you – ah, neither of us knows! Let’s find out together. It is so refreshing when we realize this.

Try it! Say "I don't know" three times today. See what happens when you communicate with honesty. Lean into the unknowing.

Usually when I ask myself this question, it's in exasperation. I don't think I have ever asked, with joy and delight, "Ah, what is that person thinking!" It's always "What is that person thinking? How could they do this?"

Whether it's my boss's actions that seem to contradict her intentions, an actor making a choice that goes against the character I wrote, or a politician or public figure voicing an opinion that to me seems blatantly offensive, I often find myself saying out loud to no one "What are they thinking?"

But seriously... what are they thinking? What happens if, for a moment, we step into their shoes and try to see the world as they do? Can we justify what they have said? Or at least understand why they said it? What do we learn about our own opinions and choices when we view them through this new lens?

Take note of all the times you say to yourself "What are they thinking?" Each time you say it, take a moment and try to answer your own question. What happens? Try for a day. Try for a week. How does the world take shape when you see it from multiple viewpoints?