I’ll Never Be Any Good at This Stuff

I’ve knocked around long enough now to recognize that there’s lots of stuff I’m not good at—and never will be. Whether that’s because I fundamentally lack specific skill sets or simply refuse to learn them doesn’t matter to me.

The point is, I know so well by now what I’m bad at that I can factor those deficits into any plan—and know in advance whether I need outside help or to find a work-around to cover up the weak spots.

For example, I’m great at putting together panels, workshops, and other content-rich events that offer participants real and lasting value.

But I’m not good at the marketing-and-persuasion side of all that: convincing people to show up or sign up.

My typical work-around is to hitch my star to people and organizations that excel at the promotion side, which frees me up to focus on content.

In other words, I try to play to my strengths so that I don’t have to suffer the consequences of my own weaknesses.

Once in a while, I’ll test this weakness-avoidance modus operandi—only to be reminded why it works for me in the first place.

For example, I recently hosted a live event featuring a panel of experts from various fields to discuss the power of storytelling as a tool for developing empathy and promoting social change. I did everything in my power to get people to turn out—and snagged about 15 souls. And most of them came at the behest of the panelists—not me.

In theory, if I’d had an organization with clout to sponsor the event, I would have produced the same stellar content—but with better turnout.

It’s so clear that I’m a talented producer and a mediocre (at best) marketer. So I’ll continue pursuing opportunities that compensate for my gaps in execution.

Another thing I’m not good at is making graphics for social media. The tools for non-designers like me are there, such as Canva. But after hundreds of hours, though I have an eye for good design, I still don’t have the knack for coming up with a magical combination of elements that show up well on all the social media platforms.

I’m also a terrible dancer. I love music but I can’t seem to organize bodily movements in a way that complements musical rhythms. Trust me, you never want to see me dance. So when the rare mood strikes, I dance alone, in private. That way, there’s no pressure to improve or to practice basic steps.

Are these aptitude issues? Training issues? Does that really matter? At some point, we all need to acknowledge the tasks we’re not especially good at—and acknowledge we may not wish to spend hundreds of hours more to reach a stage that still falls far short of mastery or even consistent competence.

I won’t bore you with a list of all the other things I’m not good at.

Going forward, I think I’ll stop testing my weaknesses, as I get the same results every time: Yup, you’re not good at this, and you don’t seem to be getting better.

Instead, I’ll focus on finding partners, allies, and sponsors who shine where I don’t, and who in turn will help me to shine, to do the things I do best. Because I think I can get better still at things I’m already good at, given appropriate time and support, whereas the things I’ve never been good at…I don’t see a meaningful pathway to become meaningfully better. (Fractions, anyone?)

This seems like a perfectly reasonable compromise. I can live with the knowledge that I’m not likely to get better at the stuff I’m bad at. Life’s too short for that. I am who I am. And I’ll be the best I can be…within my limitations.

My new novel TENT CITY, is getting some amazing reviews!

“Amy L. Bernstein’s powerful novel reflects modern times with a twist, offering powerful insights into groups that used to work together and now find themselves seemingly at odds, but connected in unusual ways.

“The food for thought generated by this social and psychological examination will prove especially compelling for readers seeking literary reflections of present and future dilemmas surrounding haves and have-nots, simmering frustrations on all sides, and the raise of poverty that both births Tent City and portends its ultimate collapse, as well.

--D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review