You can write a terrible play, you can make a terrible presentation, you can have a stupid idea, and it does not mean you are a terrible, stupid person.

I know this seems basic, but we all struggle to remember it.
 
Unfortunately, the opposite is also true: you can create something innovative and amazing, you can win all the awards in the land, and it doesn’t mean you are a good person.
 
Luckily, our worth is independent from our work.
 
Just be yourself and do your best. (Two of the hardest things on earth, I know.) You are enough.

I was in a play once with a set that was suspended from above. It gave an airy, transitional feel to the space, to have door frames and window sills floating in mid-air like that.
 
The problem is if you bumped the door frame as you walked through it, or even just walked a little too fast and created a breeze, the frame would swing. And swing. And swing. Like one of those perpetual motion desk tchotchkes.
 
And guess what. When the door frame is swinging like that, no one cares that the Nazis are coming. They’re too busy watching the door frame swing to hear your beautiful, heart-wrenching monologue.
 
Our director pulled us all aside one night before a show and said “If you bump the door frame, just reach out and stop it from swinging. Yes, it will take the audience out of the play for a moment. It’s OK to ruin the magic for a few seconds if it means preserving the magic for the rest of the evening.”
 
I have since learned that this is excellent advice when you knock over a microphone during a panel discussion, spill water on yourself during a training, or accidentally turn off the projector instead of advancing to the next slide. It’s best to stop, acknowledge that you ruined the magic, and then get the magic back as best you can. People usually laugh and appreciate your candor. No one wants to pretend they don’t see that doorframe swinging. Magic only works if you all agree, together, to imagine new possibilities.

I find myself at a point in my life where I am learning a lot of new skills at once. Some of these skills will be used to support myself financially, so the stakes are real. I am a fast learner, and I enjoy expanding my knowledge base, so in theory this should be a rich time of my life… but the actuality is that I am stressed out and overwhelmed.
 
I hate not being perfect at something. Even something I’ve never done before. (Yes, I realize that’s ridiculous.) Something in my brain scolds me for making mistakes, tells me I’m not smart or capable, tells me I should walk away now before I embarrass myself.
 
Sometimes it’s interesting to try and trace this inner critic back to a specific person or circumstance (if you have ever done The Artist’s Way, you will know that this exercise can take pages and pages), but what I’ve been focusing on lately is how to mute the voice long enough to become competent at whatever I’m learning. Sometimes that’s hours, sometimes months.
 
Lately I’ve found that the most effective way of muting this inner critic who thinks I should magically be good at everything on the first try, is just to say “OK, thank you!” and move on. The way you would thank an annoying but well-meaning co-worker who gives you bad advice. Acknowledge the advice, then ignore it and keep doing things your own way.

Are you ready to stop dreading performance reviews, critiques, workshops, and debriefings?
As promised, here are my 6 easy steps to receiving feedback:

1. Listen. Don’t interject. If you have a clarifying question, ask it. Otherwise keep your mouth shut.
   
2. Say “thank you.” If someone is giving you feedback, either you asked for their opinion, or they are offering it because they believe in you and they want you to succeed.
   
3. Write it down. All of it. The stuff that resonates, the stuff that makes no sense, the stuff that pisses you off, the stuff that affirms what you already believe. Write it all down accurately because, as much as it doesn’t seem like you will ever forget the feeling of receiving feedback (especially tough feedback), you will, and you’ll want your notes for reference.
   
4. Sleep on it. Or go take a walk. Don’t think about the feedback for a while.
   
5. Find what resonates. Look over your notes, and find the feedback that strikes a chord. This is an intuitive thing – an idea or a suggestion will stick out to you, your thoughts will catch on it like a sweater on a nail. Take note of these. This is the feedback that’s valuable.
   
6. Implement.
   

 
Let’s stop thinking of feedback as “positive” or “negative.” Let’s think of all feedback the way bats use sonar. It helps us position ourselves in the darkness. It informs our next move. It helps us navigate. If we can stop taking feedback personally, we can implement it more effectively.

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?