Jay Leno tells a story of the time early in his career when he had dreams of being on stage some day. He got a job working in the kitchen of a nightclub that featured comedians.
One night after closing, when the crowd had gone, he got on stage and stood at the mic and said a few words to the empty club, trying to get a feel for what it would be like to perform.
A comedian who had performed earlier that night saw him up there. Instead of encouraging him, he balled him out. “The mic is for the comedians, not the kitchen help!” he said.
That discouraging word sat with Jay for decades. And he never forgot the comedian who said it. How easy would it have been for that comedian to say something nice? Easy.
And where is that comedian now? Nowhere.
A similar story, but on the opposite end of the spectrum: Ken, an esteemed subscriber to this newsletter, wrote a play for his drama class when he was in 9th grade. Afterwards, he heard a teacher say, “Someday I’ll be able to tell people that I knew Kenny before he was famous.” He never forgot it.
The things we say to the young, the new, the starting out can make a big difference in their lives. They remember.
If you know someone who’s just starting out, don’t lash out. Lift up. Give an encouraging word.
This reminds me of when I was starting out. I took my ragtag portfolio to a comic convention in my twenties and showed it to some pros. Most glanced through it and shrugged their shoulders with a generic "Not right for us." I then showed it to a remotely famous Batman artist I admired, and he told me basically to give up and think about a "real" job. My heart sank. I then came across Mad Magazine's Sergio Aragones, who noticed my portfolio and asked to see it. I handed it to him timidly, and he flipped through it. I told him what the previous artist told me, and he scoffed and said, "Don't listen to him. Just keep drawing. You'll get better!" So I did what he said, and each year, I would see him at conventions and show him my progress. He gave me pointers and encouragement each time. After a few of these encounters, when I first moved to Los Angeles and saw him at San Diego Comic-Con, he went through my portfolio, silent. I felt like I must've regressed. He then shut it, stood up, shook my hand, and said, "Congratulations, you are a cartoonist!" It was my graduation day, and I landed my first professional gig a week later and have been a pro ever since.
I'm new to writing for humans, but I spent a lifetime writing for computers before I retired. By the end of my career I was required to mentor junior staffers, and my review was, in part, based on that. Really motivates you to cut the crap. It's actually a pretty simple formula. During code reviews and performance reviews, find something they did will, and lead with that. It's something they can build on. It also lessens the sting for the rest of the review. Follow up with concrete steps for improvement. The goal is to make them self-sufficient, so show them how the review process works, so they can review their own work. I've had staff, some of whom are now in very senior positions, come up to me years and even decades later, and comment about how that helped them.
I'm on a writer's/workshopping website, and I'm surprised at how many people never got the memo. It doesn't help that I have dyslexia/dysgraphia. The new AI tools have made a world of difference for me. I don't care for many of the AIs suggestions, but once they highlight the mistake, I now see them and keep editing until the damn thing futs the shuck up. It's helped me get to the point where SPaG isn't the beast it once was.
As always, my standard disclaimer applies, these free opinions are not worth what you paid for them.