The Embarrassment to Breakthrough Pipeline

Embarrassment is a sign you're onto something... nothing more and nothing less.

Bill Hader, fka Stefon, spent much of his tenure at SNL hyperventilating in a corner off stage as the Saturday Night Live Band toot tooted the show’s iconic intro music.

The story of Hader’s debilitating stage fright is stupidly endearing if, like me and Entertainment Weekly, you consider him to be one of SNL’s strongest and most talented cast members.

But even as Hader was publicly feted each week, his star power intensifying with every delivery of “This. Club. Has. Everything,” bro had a perpetual anxiety tummy ache.¹ After years of being held hostage by show-night anxiety, he sought the help of a therapist and began practicing Transcendental Meditation to calm his nerves.

There’s this comforting popular notion that the more you try something, the easier it gets.

Like, the more you practice sending emails, or perform on stage, or receive feedback on your script, you’ll eventually cue the bubbles in your gut to go from rolling boil to light effervescence.

We desperately want to believe it when someone chirps, “It gets better!” because how on earth can you be expected to live with the acute discomfort that rides along the creative process for the next five minutes, let alone for the rest of your life.

And yeah, it does get better. You increase your failure tolerance via exposure therapy; by just showing up and doing it. When I first started an email newsletter eight years ago, I’d burst into tears after hitting “SEND” because I was so nervous about people reading it lol. Over 500+ email newsletters later, I barely think about firing off a missive to tens of thousands of people.

As an added bonus, when you practice anything regularly you’re bound to improve. And when you increase competency, you gain confidence.

But BH’s stagefright story pokes a hole in the, “it gets better because YOU get better” plot.

I mean, you can be ranked as the fourth best SNL cast member of all time and still get the urge to ralph into a trashcan at curtain up.²

A chilling revelation indeed…

And not to be a total conspiracy theorist, but — hear me out —

What if embarrassment and confidence weren’t on opposite ends of the creative spectrum?

What if they’re more like complementary creative stages that we’re constantly oscillating between, with each serving a necessary purpose?

In fact, I’d go as far saying embarrassment — like, oh-my-god-I’d-rather-french-kiss-a-kitchen-disposal-than-be-perceived-right-now embarrassment — is just a sign that you’re onto something big.

A hint that a breakthrough is on the horizon.

Breakthroughs are morally neutral.

Now LISTEN. Listen! We looooooove to glamorize a breakthrough almost as much as we love to villainize a creative plateau.³ People will literally join a batshit spiritualist cult movement if it promises to help them “get unblocked,” when they could just… accept that both breakthroughs and plateaus are inherently neutral experiences?

The cultural connotation of a breakthrough experience is with an upward trajectory. In a grow-at-any-cost world, anything but up = bad bad icky mcnasty. So we turn to self-optimization in any form to boost our breakthrough ratio.

But it’s ridic to expect to experience “breakthroughs” at a constant speed and velocity because a breakthrough is a natural byproduct of a period of stagnancy … or even resistance. (Very “no rain, no rainbow” coded)

And we’re conveniently forgetting that a breakthrough isn’t always a fun, super sweet momo… but more on that later, because first I want you to reconsider some of your inaccurate and downright hurtful beliefs around periods of plateau.

If you see it coming, welcome a plateau with open arms because you’re about to be swaddled in a period of creative calm where you practice getting really good at what you do.

This time ultimately helps you develop two flavors of confidence to present your work without embarrassment. For example, let’s say you’ve finished a new painting, and you take a pic and throw it up on the ‘gram without giving it a second thought. No heart pitter-patter, no tummy troubles, no tiny evil nun on your shoulder yelling “Shame! Shame! Shame!” over and over again. A drama-free experience.

In this case, you’re standing behind your work with two types of confidence:

You’re confident in how the piece will be received, which points to the fact that you’ve probably already experimented with your concept a bit.

You’ve already thrown a tester pancake out there. You’re no longer experimenting with an idea. Enough data has been gathered for you to generally guess how people will respond to it. (Even if you know they might respond badly… you’re prepared.) Maybe you’re simply going through the motions, treating the painting as an exercise or a study. Something devoid of risk allows you to focus on smaller details, like honing in on your technique or creating more effortlessly.

You’re confident in how YOU will be perceived.

What you’ve created reinforces a pre-existing identity you hold. “Oh, that totally looks like something David would paint, because they are this type of artist.” Again, there’s no experimentation here, no pushing along the edges. Which is fine! It’s unnecessary to be in constant existential crisis mode, of persistent growth. Reinforcing our identity through the work we create can be really affirming.

If you’re comfortable with what you’ve presented, it’s because you know how it will be received and how YOU will be perceived.

You know, it’s actually so sexy and important to make things from a place of “oh what, this? I just farted this out, no biggie.” To present something for the world to judge while maintaining the placid equanimity is evolved. It takes practice! It’s a nice skill to develop. Confidence is, indeed, kül.

And.

Being embarrassed about what you’re creating is a sign that you’re onto… something ¯\(ツ)/¯

Honestly, you could be onto something that is truly so dumb!

Or, you could be onto something completely brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not-ever-been-done-before genius.

Maybe that’s not the point, to have a good idea or a bad idea?

Maybe the point is simply to diverge from our habitual way of doing things — the comfy cozy confidence zone™️ — to find something new. Which is kind of the raison d’etre of creative work, right? To imagine new ways of being in the world; to dream up a different possibility of what our future could look like.

Even (especially?) if it feels ridiculous to do so.

The funny thing about embarrassment is that you don’t even need an audience to experience it.

Sometimes I’m embarrassed to even witness an idea floating down the lazy river of my thoughts. I’m flabbergasted by my audacity!

In fact, I usually shut these ideas down before they have a chance to surface. I self-censor so hard and fast that I make the Publicity Department of the Chinese Communist Party look like free speech advocates.

Calling myself in here, holding my own hand as I say this — I can’t complain about feeling “stuck” if I’m not willing to be embarrassed.⁴

We don’t have to enjoy the experience of embarrassment coursing through our veins, but we can acknowledge the feeling for what it is — a simple clue that a breakthrough is afoot, if we’re down to clown.

Look around — where are you now?

If you’re standing solidly on a creative plateau and starting to get antsy, start to clock when you feel glimmers of embarrassment. Instead of moving away from those clues, do your best impression of Nic Cage as Benjamin Franklin Gates in National Treasure and take off running.

And if you’re currently doggy paddling through the Sea of Embarrassment, know that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Soon you’ll hit solid land where you can bask in the sun for a while as you get your feet underneath you. Eventually, though, the siren song of creative breakthrough will call you back to the water’s edge… so, you best learn how to swim.

Thanks for reading, and may the light of the Muse always shine upon you,

The SPACIES Team

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1. He’s just like me, fr.

2. We need an update on the state of this man’s esophageal lining… I fear persistent heartburn is a forgone conclusion for our guy.

3. I fear that’s the persistent drone of capitalism, my friend, taking over our brains and convincing us to grow at all costs, like those parasites that take over praying mantises and get them to commit sui by jumping into water because that’s how the parasite spawns. Truly diabolical.

4. In case it wasn’t clear, creative plateaus are morally neutral, just as creative breakthroughs are morally neutral. But in either case, sometimes you’re ready to be done with that stage and flip flop over to the other side.