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WW 05: The Joy of Being Bad at Things

Hello, Wondering People!

I am particularly excited about this issue because when it comes to being bad at things, I can speak with some credibility. In my adult life, I have been profoundly bad at playing the ukulele, tap dancing, and speaking Spanish. At this moment, I am proud to be newly bad at crochet. Sometimes my miserable skill level is temporary. I was bad at ceramics for one night, only because we never returned to take another class. I was bad at macrame for four months, but then I got better.

So, please know that you are in (clumsy, capable) hands as we explore the joy of being bad at things. This issue is dedicated to Uncle Q and everyone brave enough to play music together.

Are you ready to wonder?

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The Small Idea: Don't deny yourself the joy of being bad at something.

The Spark: This Is Love podcast. "Episode 73: A Really Terrible Orchestra."

What if the greatest barrier to trying new things isn't lack of time or money, but our terror of being seen as incompetent?

Nancy Martira Clew Strategy

When the Really Terrible Orchestra of the Triangle held their first public performance, they included thoughtful accommodations for friends and family members who turned out to support the orchestra’s debut. Ear plugs were handed out. The printed program had games and diversions to distract from the music. Audience members with cellphones were encouraged to keep them turned on. After all, the music would almost certainly be really terrible.

In 1995, Peter Stevenson and Alexander McCall Smith founded the Really Terrible Orchestra of Edinburgh. (Yes, that Alexander McCall Smith). It’s unclear if the Really Terrible Orchestra of the Triangle (North Carolina) is a sanctioned offshoot or just spiritual kin. RTOOT - a perfect abbreviation — was founded in 2008 when Sandy Hobgood read an article about the original Edinburgh RTO and was determined to steal the idea. The ethos behind both groups is the same. Neither talent, nor skill, nor hard work actually, should be a prerequisite for playing music.

“Auditions” are held to ensure that new members are not too good. Musicians who "fail" RTOOT’s audition are referred to a local community orchestra. Other than a talent ceiling, the only requirement is that you must be able to read music and breathe at the same time. You don’t even have to play all the notes, just the ones you know. Come to think of it, that is exactly how I play the ukulele.

I desperately wish that there was a Really Terrible Orchestra near me. I would even learn how to read music again (ish) so that I could join. I’ve found similar groups in Westchester County, Los Altos, San Francisco, Omaha, Fort Wayne, IA, and Bethlehem, PA. And though I won’t be returning to the clarinet, that albatross of sixth grade, opportunities to joyfully suck at something abound. The Really Terrible Orchestra is just one example of a much larger movement. Communities everywhere are creating spaces where incompetence is not just tolerated but celebrated.

Permission and the Perfectionism Trap

For those who struggle with perfectionism, being deliberately bad at something can be thrillingly liberating. Podcast host Hrishikesh Hirway describes taking up ceramics specifically because he knew he'd be terrible at it. In his Accept Cookies newsletter, he writes about recognizing that his perfectionism—"which is a more positive term for 'being a jerk to myself'"—had been "crushing the joy out of the things I love the most."

Hirway's solution was radical:

His insight gets to the heart of why permission to be bad is so revolutionary: when we're terrified of failure, we often stop trying altogether. But as Hirway discovered through his pottery practice, "making something is much more fun than convincing yourself not to make something." The goal wasn't to become good at ceramics; it was to "burn off layers of perfectionism" and rediscover joy in the process of creating.

This approach challenges everything our achievement-obsessed culture teaches us. We're conditioned to believe that if something is worth doing, it's worth doing well. But what if the opposite is also true? What if some things are worth doing badly, joyfully, without any pressure to improve?

The Science of Sucking at Stuff

Being bad at things turns out to be remarkably good for us. When we're beginners at something, our brains light up with activity. Neuroplasticity‌ — ‌the brain's ability to change, reorganize, and grow neural networks‌ — ‌is most active when we're learning something entirely new. As neuroscientist Dr. Michael Merzenich explains, learning new skills creates new neural pathways and strengthens existing connections, essentially rewiring our brains for greater adaptability and resilience.

We hear a lot about "growth mindset" these days, and like everything else, it's probably been overused and thinly applied. The term was popularized by Carol Dweck, a researcher and psychologist known for her work on motivation and mindset. Dweck’s research found that people with growth mindsets don't view failure as evidence of unintelligence but rather as a springboard for self-development. So hey, if you’re really uncomfortable being bad at something, the good news is that you’ll probably get better!

Here's what's radical about deliberately being bad at things: it forces us into a growth mindset. When we sign up for that hiking group knowing that we get winded climbing two flights of stairs, we're essentially conducting therapy on our own brains. We're training ourselves to see struggle as information rather than as judgment; to view mistakes as data points rather than character flaws.

Research supports the psychological benefits of stepping outside familiar territory. A study published in the Journal of Positive Psychology found that adults who engaged in activities "outside their comfort zone" showed significant improvements in life satisfaction compared to those who maintained their regular routines. Researchers at the University of Texas at Dallas discovered that older adults who were "productively engaged in learning new skills showed improvements in memory compared to those who engaged in social activities or non-demanding mental activities at home".

Curiosity ​ The Portsmouth Sinfonia was founded by a group of students at the Portsmouth School of Art in 1970, open to people without any musical training. More advanced musicians could only participate if they played an instrument that was entirely new to them. What started as a sort of joke became a “cultural phenomenon,” releasing three albums and performing at the Royal Albert Hall in 1974. The group’s final performance was in 1979 and according to the official but undated website, they’re in negotiations to re-release their catalog. Fortunately, I was able to listen to a playlist on YouTube while writing this newsletter. The Portsmouth Sinfonia continues to be discovered by new generations, proving that truly terrible music is timeless. Their music appeared in the Oscar-winning 2022 film Everything Everywhere All At Once.

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Ample Opportunities to Be Bad at Something New

You don’t need to be a bad musician to boldly suck at something. People's Improv Theater offers "Joy of" classes that allow students to play at a beginner level, experiencing the "Joy of" their selected unit. They are half the commitment (3–4 weeks instead of 6–8), and do not have a Graduation Show (ahem, Hannah) at the end of the course, no doubt to the eternal gratitude of their friends and family. Their tagline is "Fight off loneliness, find a community while, dipping y​our toe into the joyous pool of improvisation—0% fear, 100% fun."​

At Western Downs Libraries in Queensland, Australia, a regular patron named Terry once gave feedback: "You need to do something for the people who can't do art, so I have a chance at being the best one in the group." The librarian responded by creating Bad Art Night, "where people could create whatever their heart inspired, using whatever materials we had on offer." Public libraries around the world are embracing "Bad Art Night​s.” In addition to Queensland, I’ve seen events advertised at libraries in Ontario, Paris, and probably all 50 states. An Indiana librarian noticed that when she ran other craft programs for teens, they were concerned about "messing up" and didn't have as much fun as she hoped. “With Bad Art Night, the intention is to have fun and throw a hideous creation together; you literally cannot do it wrong.”

If there is a spiritual godmother to Bad Art Night, it’s Los Angeles comedian and TikTok star Sam Reece. Reece is the creator of Shitty Craft Club: the book, the community, and … the vibe. “[In Shitty Craft Club] there are no bad ideas and googly eyes can go on anything. Perfectionism is the enemy and hot glue guns are your frenemy.” Have you seen my house? I could have written this book, but I’m not nearly as adorable as Sam Reece. The Shitty Craft Club book "gives you permission to have fun and be as weird, wild, and wonderful as you want to be. It's about trying your best, not perfection."

​Fat Girls Hiking takes this philosophy outdoors, creating inclusive hiking communities for people of all body types and abilities. Founded by Summer Michaud-Skog, the organization isn't about being "bad" at hiking; it's about making the outdoors accessible to everyone, regardless of fitness level or body size. The magic happens in the byproduct: hiking groups where no one is left behind, where the pace is set by the slowest member, and where the goal is community connection rather than summit achievement. Like the Really Terrible Orchestra, Fat Girls Hiking proves that when we remove the pressure to excel, we create space for something more valuable‌ — ‌belonging.

The Experiment: Practice Being Gloriously Bad

This week, I invite you to deliberately seek out the experience of being terrible at something. Here are two small experiments designed to feel completely manageable.

Here are two small experiments to try: ​

The Five-Minute Fumble: Choose something you've always wanted to try but never have because you know you'd be bad at it. Give yourself exactly five minutes to attempt it with zero preparation and zero pressure to continue. Draw with your non-dominant hand. Try to juggle three items from your desk. Attempt to say "hello" in a language you don't speak. Notice how it feels to be genuinely, spectacularly bad at something without any expectation of improvement. ​ Perfectly Bad: This experiment is designed for the perfectionists! Choose a creative task‌ — ‌writing, drawing, crafting, singing‌ — ‌and set a timer for 15 minutes. Your mission is to create something as perfectly terrible as possible. The catch? You must finish when the timer goes off, no matter what. No editing, no fixing, no "just one more minute." Following Hrishikesh Hirway's approach, embrace the inevitable imperfection as a way to "burn off layers of perfectionism" and rediscover the joy in creating without the pressure to excel.

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The Wonder of Incompetence

All of this is to say: When you give yourself permission to be spectacularly bad at something, it feels amazing. If you need a “good for you” reason to be bad, here it is. When we deliberately choose incompetence, we're engaging in a scientifically-backed form of brain training that rewires our neural networks for greater resilience and adaptability. But also, IT FEELS AMAZING. One time I was laughing at myself so hard in a Zumba class, I had to move to the side because the entire row was distracted at my delight in my ineptitude.

The Really Terrible Orchestra reminds us that there's profound joy in doing something badly, together, with people who understand that excellence was never the goal. In a world that often feels designed to make us feel inadequate, embracing our incompetence becomes an act of defiance, a reminder that not everything we do needs to be optimized, monetized, or perfected.

In our achievement-obsessed culture, the deliberate cultivation of incompetence becomes a radical act of rebellion.

The Question

What would you try if you knew you could be wonderfully, spectacularly bad at it without any shame or pressure to improve? How might embracing incompetence free you to explore parts of yourself you've kept hidden behind the armor of expertise?

And now for the Mystery Link!

This week, we've got more unusual orchestras. So, which will you choose: Door Number One or Door Number Two?

​ Door Number One

​ Door Number Two

Work with Nancy and Borrow My Wild Brain (or buy me a coffee.) ​ ​Meet Nancy Martira. ​ I'm a brand strategist and communications consultant who brings endless curiosity to every project. If you've got a challenge that needs a fresh, unexpected perspective, let's talk! How I Can Help →

"To invent your own life's meaning is not easy, but it's still allowed, and I think you'll be happier for it."

​ — Bill Watterson

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