How Mastery Starts Small and Grows Slowly
Three notes repeated leads to music
Mastery starts small and simple.
It looks too easy. Too basic. But that’s where you must begin.
I watched this demonstrated at an acoustic roots music festival when a musician led an improv workshop.
Let’s call him Tall Andrew.
Tall Andrew was a master of the mandolin, fiddle, guitar, tenor banjo, song, and sound mixing.
But despite his talent, when it came time to teach improv, his approach was simple.
Tall Andrew didn’t teach theory. Instead, he called for any musicians in the crowd willing to come forward, play, and learn.
Brave Pete asked if he had time to fetch his violin.
When Pete returned, Tall Andrew asked him to show us how he played—first one piece, then a second in a different style.
It was clear Pete was at home with his violin.
And the class settled right down. We knew we weren’t going to feel embarrassed for Pete. He knew his instrument.
But it was a surprise when Tall Andrew asked Pete to stick with three notes only and to try something new with them.
Tall Andrew gave some hints by playing the three notes in a few variations. Pete followed along.
Then Tall Andrew chose just one sequence with those three notes. And Pete practiced that flow.
The long note, then the short notes. Long, short, short. Over and over. Probably thirty times.
Tall Andrew didn’t correct Pete. He just kept playing for him until Pete got it.
And in the meantime, Tall Andrew invited a guitarist in for backup with the same chords.
Now, we were listening to something beautiful emerge.
At the end of ten minutes, Pete had it. It sounded sweet. And both Pete and Tall Andrew looked satisfied.
Three notes. One focus.
As an audience, we’d witnessed the power of choosing something small.
Playing with it, having fun with it, till it felt and sounded just right, and you felt satisfied.
And ready to move on.
A lesson in how mastery builds—one simple step, playfully, at a time.
It looked like magic.
Small is big in writing a book too
I saw this same idea in action while running my ebook challenge these last weeks.
The allure of the big-scale project.
The reality of satisfaction through small steps.
It’s tempting for new authors to go all in, cover a lot of territory, and show their expertise. Write a bigger book.
But a big project takes longer, asks for more patience and persistence, and can quickly Become Way Too Much.
Which starts the Flirtation With Giving Up.
Better to start small. Manageable. Completable.
A short ebook. Not needing a colossal effort.
Offering a baby-step transformation for the reader.
A change the reader will feel and value.
And one the reader will remember the writer for.
So I asked writers to limit their ebook focus to these:
One reader.
One problem.
One solution.
These guardrails were a relief for the writers. And the constraints allowed for faster and more focused work.
My job as the leader was to dish out the tough love to the writers:
Keep the parameters clear.
Rein in the excitement and overthinking.
Hail the value of repetition.
Remind them that the timer’s on.
Reinforce the goal of completion.
Basically, to remind the writers they had only three notes to play.
To zero in on a humble but quality end-product.
To celebrate one small step toward mastery.
And at the end of the challenge, I heard back from the writers and read their ebooks. I saw how a small step had led to a big gain for each of them.
Their confidence soared.
They did something they never thought they would.
They knew how to do it again.
This is how mastery happens.
It’s not magic after all.
P.S. I’m running the Write Your Short Ebook in 5 Steps challenge again (for a small beta group at a discount) in January 2025. DM me if writing a short ebook is a project you’ve been putting off but know would help build your business.
A vital message here.
It took decades of starting and quitting before realizing that I had to break things down into the smallest components.
Nowhere am I learning this lesson more now than with writing.
This is great advice. Let's start small.