Winging it
Feel free to carry around a package of uncooked pasta like a purse, but it makes a poor snack. (Library of Congress)
In music, I love playing by ear.
In particular, I love the challenge of figuring out songs on the fly. On Christmas Day, I sat at the piano taking requests from my nieces and nephews as the whole family sang along with a variety of tunes, from “Up on the Housetop” to “Let it Snow.” It is thrilling when my fingers are able to find the right melody note or the right chord with little conscious input.
In these moments, I depend on a baseline level of skill and experience to carry me through. It’s too late for a plan — I just have to wing it. And over the years, I’ve gotten good at winging it.
Many elements of our culture glorify winging it. High school kids brag about how little they studied for an exam that they got a good grade on. We love stories of outsiders who, whether though deception or by accident, land roles that they are not qualified for and somehow find success. It goes along with the myth of the overnight success and our worship of talent.
Because I’ve gotten so good at winging it, I’ve tended to neglect another useful modality for accomplishing things: Thorough preparation.
Historically, I haven’t been that great at planning. That often leaves me without ample time to prepare for the work at hand. Therefore, it is a win when I can successfully pull off whatever I’m trying to do.
What’s more, I am insulated from criticism when I’m winging it — after all, I did the best I could with the limited resources I had. It’s not particularly impressive to be able to play, say, “The Gambler” in itself, but to perform it for others without ever having tried it before is not a bad party trick. So if I make a few mistakes, everyone understands.
Lately, however, I’ve been thinking more and more about the degree to which I’ve been over-relying on my ability to think on my feet. What could I achieve if I simply practiced more?
A YouTuber named Abigail Thorn creates lengthy treatises on philosophy with a theatrical flair. I learned that she fully memorizes her scripts. That is a lot of work — and it makes an obvious difference in the level of professionalism and polish in her videos. I am interested in learning to get better on camera, and that is surely one way to do it -- one that’s literally never occurred to me.
This is one of those posts that will have half of you going, “What? That’s so freaking obvious,” while the others are either nodding along or having their minds blown by something they’ve never thought about before.
Most of the time, I advocate for building on one’s strengths. Introverts don’t need to try to become extroverts, and vice versa. It makes more sense, especially in midlife, to work toward accomplishments in our own field than to start in a brand new one.
But there are definitely times when one’s existing strengths can hold us back. A person who is effortlessly charming may have relationships that lack depth. Someone who is very good with numbers and logic may struggle to understand emotions.
And someone who can cleverly wing it most of the time may be missing out on opportunities that require more discipline and attention to detail.
So I’m thinking about how I can build on my success in being spontaneous while balancing it with some intentional effort to invest in the behind-the-scenes work. That could be as simple as practicing a given song multiple times before I play it with someone else, or as rich an undertaking as writing a book or a course instead of presenting information live the way I have always done. And as part of that, I might, yes indeed, memorize a script.
Winging it has its value and has served me well, but there are other useful skills that I can put my attention into developing. What about you?
