On being OK with not being the best

Learning to let go of perfection

In all the excitement of my second KJ Lyttleton book launching, I didn't tell you about my latest adventure.

me as a teenager, back when I thought I might actually be a rock star one day.

Remember how I mentioned that I had gone to a folky singing night thing and ended up singing a couple of songs there? It’s kind of like being in a choir, except everyone takes turns to sing a tune, sometimes inviting the rest of us to join in and harmonise, sometimes performing solo.

Well, shortly after that, I was forced to face up to one of my biggest fears. It wasn't crane flies, nothing that terrible thank god, but it was something I have struggled with all my life. What’s more, it was something I’ve been trying to actively overcome in my middle age. And what is this thing, you ask? It is simply this: my fear of not being perfect and my tendency to give up on things I enjoy just because I’m not exceptional at them.¹

It started when I went along to the St Patrick's Day celebrations down at the Albion in Hastings to listen to Sian Reid and other Irish performers. Sian runs these singing nights, as well as “Find Your Voice” events where she teaches harmonising and singing. She’s a fantastic force for good in the world.

When we arrived, Sian was stressed because her guitarist hadn’t shown up. Being a trouper, she started anyway, strumming a few songs herself and singing others a cappella. She does a lot of that kind of unaccompanied singing, so we were having a lovely time listening to her.

But a few songs in, she handed Alex (Milway, my husband), the guitar. I was all like, “Oh yes, he can play the guitar, what do you want him to play?” Because I like to volunteer Alex for things, you see. (This is something my eldest would describe as one of my “toxic traits.”) But then Sian turned to me and said, “Katie, sing ‘Kathy’s Song’.” And before I knew it, without really having a chance to think about it, I was performing in front of an audience for the first time in twenty years. Without a mic, without a capo, and (I quickly realised) without a full grasp on all of the lyrics.

Alex and me with our friends shortly before we were ambushed with a guitar

Thing is, I haven’t performed for over 20 years because, I decided long ago that I am not a good enough singer, and as soon as I decide I’m inept at something, I drop it faster than a poorly thought out tariff policy.

But something changed a few years ago. I’d just finished ghostwriting a piece about embracing failure, nodding my head at the wisdom of the advice (from my very wise client, not from me) when I realised I absolutely never do that. I never accept failure as an option. And often it means missing out on fun stuff just in case I make a fool of myself, or it means beating myself up over not doing a perfect job, or it means not even trying something in case it turns into an embarrassing fiasco – like a poorly thought out tariff policy.

Worst of all, it means not doing things you love just because you think those things only belong to the virtuosos and the geniuses.

I think this is one of those bits of wisdom that comes with age, along with the humility to approach life with less concern about what the world thinks – and without the expectation that you should get a big pat on the back or a big tick in a box with a smiley face.

Which is why, I have been trying to do things I’m not good at, and trying my best to learn to be OK with being OK. And it turns out I’m only OK at learning to be OK with being OK, but that’s OK. It’s not easy to change the mindset of a lifetime

So I sang in front of a pubful of strangers and later I sang again when Sian handed over the guitar once more (Big Yellow Taxi, which is also not an Irish song, but Sian was OK with OK in that moment), and no one walked out (not that I noticed anyway, I was too busy sweating out an adrenaline spike), and this week I went along to the folky group singing night again and just had a nice time singing songs in my OK voice. It was pretty excellent.

I think this might have been at a local fête but in my mind it was Donnington Monsters of Rock

Having a Laugharne

In other news, we went to Laugharne Arts Festival² a few weeks ago. I think it's the first time we've been away since I was pregnant with my youngest daughter, which just seems absolutely mad, given that she'll be 13 this year.

Every space that we entered brought us to something worth hearing or something worth seeing. I won’t bang on about it now, but if you’d like a grown up weekend doing something artsy and cultured, this is a little pocket of loveliness on the Welsh coast and I highly recommend it.

Everyone who has been to Laugharne has taken this exact same photo.

Writing update!

I had my first Writers’ Café yesterday, which is a little writing group I've started so that Hastings writer types can gather in a space and sit and get some words on a page with a sense of obligation not to stare at our phones or be distracted or allow ourselves to become numbed with self loathing and critical thinking. It's amazingly effective. Something about the presence of other writers also tapping away helps me to get things on the page without having an existential crisis. Which is why I'm feeling quite buoyant this Friday, having written some more words of my third crime novel. I'm also working on the edits for my comedy novel, which will hopefully appear in the coming months.

I wrote on LinkedIn the other day about how I'm not very good at silver linings. I don't tend to see my successes as successes. I just look at all the things I should have done better and could have done quicker, and end up feeling like a failure (that word again) because I haven’t got the third book written as quickly as I wanted to.

So the writers meet up was just a really nice way to reset all that nonsense and get cracking on Book Three in the Aldhill Mystery series, which I’m about 12,000 words into so far.

I also really enjoyed farting about with design software this week

Have a lovely weekend everyone!

PS. I bet you can’t guess what band name is on the non-official merch skull t-shirt I’m wearing in that first photo. Email by hitting reply, or leave me a comment and I’ll send a copy of my book to whoever gets it right first.

1. This is a hard subject to write about without sounding like an utter knob. Is it easy to empathise with the kind of person who expects to excel at things? I think probably not, but I'm going to risk it, because I think we’re all friends here and I know for a fact some of you are high achieving swots as well.

2. The headline joke only works on paper. Laugharne is pronounced Larne. Some might argue it doesn’t actually work on paper either since you can’t actually have a Laugharne, but it turns out occasionally I really am OK with the bare minimum.