The first time I ever … well, pretty much anything

First times suck. They may be fun, exciting and tingling with the shock of the new, but in terms of actual accomplishment, first times are usually less than memorable.
One of the few episodes of Doogie Howser MD that I ever caught missed this point completely. The story concerns Doogie’s gormless buddy Vinnie making a horror movie. His first film. Unsurprisingly, given that he’s seventeen and not showing any signs of genius, it’s not good.
Vinnie’s response: He should give up! If the first movie he’s ever made sucks, that’s clearly a sign he has no talent or ability, never will have any and his movie-making career is down the toilet before it begins. Okay, I can understand him feeling that way (Vinnie is, after all, pals with a teenage MD), but the episode actually seems to agree: If your first work isn’t any good, give up!
This is not the only time I’ve seen a TV show take that approach (at least I don’t think it is, though no other examples come to mind) and I think it’s a load of codswallop. Balderdash. Gammon and spinach. Stuff and nonsense. You get the idea.
Very few people are actually brilliant the first time they do anything. Very few people actually achieve brilliance without working for it. Even selling the first story you ever write is a remarkable achievement; writing a really good one is even more impressive——and unlikely. A standard rule of thumb is that it takes 100,000 or 1 million words before you get good——I’ve no idea how you calculate the exact amount, but the principle is sound. It applies to movies too: Boris Karloff labored for years in bit parts before breaking out with Frankenstein. Steven Spielberg’s directorial debut was a segment of the Night Gallery pilot.
My first stories certainly weren’t very good; I’m not sure they even “showed potential” but I clearly had some. Even on individual projects, the same rule applies: I’ve never written a good first draft and I’ve only occasionally written an adequate one. If I applied Vinnie’s standard, I’d toss them all into the dumpster——but as I’ve learned from experience, if I can finish the first draft, I can find something in it to rework into a good final draft.
I’ve been practicing juggling for years. When I started, even tossing two balls back and forth was a challenge, like I was fighting the Flash (“I missed! How can anything move so fast?”). Now I’ve made it all the way up to handling three in short bursts (I was able to do it continuously before I left Florida, but then came a looong gap in practice).
One of my 101 in 1,0001 goals is to meditate regularly. I’m not good at meditation——I suffer from “monkey mind,” as they call it——but I think it’s a good goal, so I’m not giving up, just because I’m bad at it now.
The idea that your first time has to be good fits in with the film/TV cliche of genius and talent as some unfathomable gift. You’ve either got it or you don’t. And if you don’t, just give up, because you’ll never amount to a hill of beans.
Thank you, but I think I’ll look to Vincent van Gogh: “If you hear a voice within you say “you cannot paint,” then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.”