Put your worst foot forward

This week, I came up with a new saying and a new operating principle for my life: put your worst foot forward.

I used to put my best foot forward. I'd stress and agonize over what was my best work. I'd refine and refine and refine. If I wrote a song, I'd spend weeks editing and mixing it. If I drew a picture, I'd try to get every pixel just right. No sentence was safe. No hue untouched. Everything needed revision.

It took me forever to produce anything, and even longer to share it. That's because "best foot forward" was a nebulous, unattainable goal post that moved further and further away with every new thing I did. Every time I produced anything, it always had to be better than the last thing. I always had to reach new heights, or it wasn't good enough.

After awhile, I couldn't do it anymore. Not because I couldn't improve, but because I didn't want to. Because writing and creating stopped being fun and became a sad, angry slog to perfection.

Well, I don't care anymore.

The "worst foot forward" philosophy is thus: I may not do better than my best thing every time, but I will definitely do better than my worst thing all the time. It's a breezy, convenient hurdle to get over, and a standard I can easily set for myself.

What's the worst thing on my website? I set a new low last week when I posted a completely unfinished, unvarnished, single-take video of me fiddling around on a groovebox. It was long and possibly not even interesting to watch from start to finish.

But hey! With that as my worst example, suddenly I'm uploading a ton of other music that, while not my best, is certainly better than that one! What freedom!

This website has become an excellent vehicle for "worst foot forward". The site itself leaves something to be desired. It's not great. Parts are broken. Features are missing. But it's there! And that's the important part. The site is real and exists and increasingly has more and more interesting content to peruse. That's because I've given up on the idea that there's any discernable content standard that I should be trying to enforce. My guiding principle now is: did I make it? Is it coherent? Great! Put it up there!

Now things are moving faster. I have more to show for my time. And I can move on to other things. And that feels like a really great thing.

So I challenge you: try it. Stop caring about quality. Start caring about fun. See what happens.

And don't be afraid to do your worst. It's better than nothing.