Your first project will almost always fail.
Not completely. Not dramatically.
But in some way—it will. And that’s not a problem.
It’s the point.
I used to be a perfectionist. I would prepare everything. Think through every possible outcome. Try to make it perfect on the first attempt.
And when it didn’t work?
It hit my ego hard.
That changed after reading Mindset by Carol Dweck. Not overnight. But slowly. I started to notice something:
Most first attempts don’t fail because people aren’t capable.
They fail because reality doesn’t care about your plan.
When I started writing online, I didn’t start with this blog. I started with a novel. I built a website for it—over 10 years ago now. No one read it.
Literally no one.
So I stopped.
Later, this blog came to life. And it didn’t look like it does now.
It was messy. Unclear. I wasn’t happy with it.
But I published anyway.
Over time, I wrote more. Improved. Adjusted. Learned. It’s still far from “successful.”
But I enjoy it now. And if it helps even one person—that’s enough.
Maybe in a few years it grows into something bigger.
Maybe it doesn’t.
But that’s not the point anymore.
I see the same pattern everywhere.
Even with things you wouldn’t usually call a “project.” Like my dog. Leto is the first dog I’ve owned myself. And despite growing up with dogs—I got a lot wrong.
I watched hours of training videos. Tried to do everything “right.”
Still failed.
Because none of those dogs in the videos were him.
Every dog is different.
Different personality. Different triggers. Different responses.
You don’t learn that by watching. You learn that by doing—and adjusting.
Same with running.
When I trained for my first half marathon, I thought I had a solid plan.
I didn’t.
Too much volume. Too little recovery. Ignored warning signs. Ignored conditions.
I didn’t fail the race.
But I paid for it—with a tendinopathy that I’m still working through.
Looking back, none of these were failures.
They were first versions.
And first versions are supposed to be imperfect.
That’s the part most people get wrong. They think the goal is to get it right the first time.
It’s not.
The goal is to start something real enough that it can teach you something.
Because you can’t improve something that doesn’t exist.
So if you’re waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect plan, the perfect execution—
You’re waiting for something that doesn’t exist.
Start messy.
Let it be flawed.
Let it teach you.
Then do it again—slightly better.
And again.
And again.
Because the people you think “got it right” the first time?
You’re just seeing version 10.0.
Not version 1.0.
And for those perfectionists out there, I have a gem from James Clear:
Perfection is expensive. The last 5 percent of quality almost always costs a disproportionate amount of time and money.
My favorite type of purchase is where you spend 80 percent of the cost, but get 95 percent of the value. The best combination of cost and quality is often one step down from perfect.
🧪 Let’s Experiment
Make it bad on purpose.
Perfectionism has one weakness: it can’t handle intentional imperfection.
🎯 Try This:
Take the next thing you’ve been overthinking and set one rule:
“This has to be a bad first version.”
- Write fast, not perfect
- Skip polishing
- Ignore formatting
- Leave things unfinished
Your only goal:
Finish version 1.0.
No tweaking. No “just one more change.”
Once it exists—you’re allowed to improve it.
Before that? Not allowed.
🧠 Final Thought:
You can’t improve something that doesn’t exist. So make it exist—even if it’s bad.
Keep it simple, stay curious, and keep learning—you’ve got this.
Take care,
Carina 🦊