The Willingness to Eat Shit:
There’s a brutal, unglamorous truth that separates those who make beautiful work from those who merely fantasize about it:
the willingness to fail, spectacularly, repeatedly, and publicly, is the only real prerequisite to unlocking something new.
I was reminded of this recently while looking at an old project. In the beginning, it was ugly, truly awful. The graphic design was clumsy, the layout was disjointed, and the overall look and feel were painfully off. At the time, it was almost embarrassing. But months later, standing in front of the finished piece, I found myself impressed, not because the final result was flawless, but because of how radically different it was from where it began.
That gap between the first awkward draft and the final product wasn’t a miracle. It was the result of sitting in the mess, poking at it, pulling at its threads, unveiling new dimensions through sheer stubbornness. What began as something ugly eventually unfolded into something meaningful, but only because I was willing to wade through the swamp of imperfection long enough to find it.
Beauty Doesn’t Appear Fully Formed
People love to talk about their brilliant ideas. They romanticize the moment of inspiration as if the idea itself contains the finished masterpiece, as if execution is just a matter of transcribing genius. But anyone who’s actually tried to make something knows the cruel reality:
The likelihood that what’s in your head will match what you can produce is abysmally low.
The distance between conception and creation is vast, and that distance is littered with failed attempts, miscalculations, ugly drafts, and half-formed versions of what you hoped it would be. Beauty doesn’t emerge fully formed, it is excavatedthrough the process of failure and iteration.
The Creators Who Win Have Strong Stomachs
The people who create extraordinary things aren’t the ones with the most flawless ideas. They’re the ones who are willing to eat shit the longest.
They don’t flinch when their first attempt falls short. They don’t run from the discomfort of seeing their vision mangled by their own insufficient execution. They understand that the ugly, awkward, off-kilter phase is not a detour, it’s the path.
Most people can’t stomach this. Their ego intervenes. They prefer the pristine fantasy of the idea in their head over the bruising reality of the work in progress. They wait, they hesitate, they polish imaginary masterpieces instead of making real flawed ones. But creators who endure this phase treat imperfection like clay, something to keep pressing and reshaping until a new form starts to reveal itself.
Novelty Hides Behind Failure
The first drafts of anything are almost always obvious. They’re filled with clichés, surface-level decisions, and half-baked execution. But if you keep pushing, if you sit in that tension between what you imagined and what you currently have, something shifts.
Each failure is a small revelation, a hint pointing toward what it could become. Novelty doesn’t announce itself upfront; it reveals itself slowly through friction. And the friction only happens when you actually make something, not when you’re just thinking about it.
This is why I tell people to start immediately. Yesterday, if possible. Because the only way to close the gap between your idea and your ability to realize it is to start failing now. Waiting for “the right time” is just ego dressed as strategy.
Creative Maturity Means Ego Suspension
At its core, this process is about ego. You have to be willing to accept that your first attempts will be beneath you. That your execution won’t match your taste. That your brilliance won’t translate cleanly.
Mature creators are the ones who can suspend their ego long enough to let the work evolve. They understand that beauty is not imposed, it’s uncovered through sustained, often uncomfortable dialogue between vision and reality.
Start Ugly, Stay With It, Unlock Beauty
So here’s the uncomfortable truth:
If you want to make something beautiful, you have to be willing to make something ugly first.
You have to start before you’re ready. You have to stare at the clumsy, disappointing thing you’ve made and keep poking at it anyway. You have to eat shit, again and again, until the chasm between idea and execution starts to close.
The people who unlock beauty are not the ones who avoid failure, they’re the ones who endure it.
So put your ego aside. Start ugly. Stay with it. Beauty is waiting on the other side.
