On the Audacity to Try
(confidence sold separately)
Trying new things as an adult takes a specific kind of nerve. Not the loud, fearless kind. The quieter kind that shows up without proof.
Somewhere along the way, we start believing that confidence should come first. That we’re supposed to know what we’re doing before we begin. That starting without clarity is irresponsible instead of necessary.
But growth doesn’t always begin with certainty. It begins with curiosity and a willingness to look unfinished.
The audacity to try isn’t about believing you’ll succeed. It’s about deciding that not knowing is reason enough to start. It’s choosing motion over permission. It’s letting yourself be a beginner again, even when you’re competent in other areas of your life. And that part can feel strangely uncomfortable.
As kids, trying new things is expected. As adults, it can feel like a reputational risk. You’ve built skills. You have a rhythm. People know you for certain things. Starting over even in small ways, can feel like stepping out of character.
There’s a quiet voice that asks,
Shouldn’t you be past this stage by now?
But most creative growth doesn’t follow a straight line. It branches. It doubles back. It asks you to become a beginner again and again, in different rooms, with different tools.
Trying without guarantees is its own kind of skill.
It means starting before you feel ready.
Publishing before you feel certain.
Experimenting without a clear outcome.
Continuing, even when the results are ambiguous.
(talking to myself right now with this substack site)
This kind of bravery rarely looks impressive from the outside. It doesn’t always produce quick wins or tidy narratives. Sometimes it just looks like a draft. Or a new direction that no one asked for. Or a project that only makes sense to you.
We tend to celebrate boldness when it’s polished. When it’s attached to a success story. When the risk has already paid off. But most boldness happens much earlier, in moments no one sees.
In the decision to:
sign up for the class
share the idea
change direction
start the project
try the thing you might not be good at yet
Quiet persistence is often braver than dramatic leaps. It’s less cinematic, but more sustainable.
It looks like:
showing up again tomorrow
making small adjustments
staying with something long enough to learn from it
Not everything you try will turn into something. Some experiments will end quietly. Some ideas will lose their appeal. Some paths will turn out to be detours.
But trying isn’t wasted effort. It’s how clarity is earned.
The audacity to try is really the audacity to be seen in progress. To let your work exist before it’s polished. To move without guarantees. To trust that action, even imperfect action, has its own kind of intelligence.
Confidence, it turns out, is often a side effect.
Not a requirement.
A Small Practice
Think of one thing you’ve been curious about but haven’t tried yet.
Nothing dramatic. Just something small that keeps returning to your mind.
Now ask:
What would the first, low-stakes version of this look like?
What would it mean to try it without needing it to become anything?
Then take one step that doesn’t require confidence—just curiosity.
A search.
A sketch.
A paragraph.
A message.
There’s an old saying about the best way to eat an elephant….(which is one bite at a time.) It’s not the most elegant metaphor, but the pacing advice is solid. You don’t need the whole plan. Just the next bite.
If you’re in the middle of trying something new, or thinking about it, I’d love to hear about it in the comments. And if this kind of writing resonates, you’re welcome to subscribe and follow along. There’s more experimentation ahead.
xo