The Learning Space
Sitting with Frustration and Picking Up the Fiddle Again
I was at a friend’s house recently when her 8-year-old daughter pulled out a fiddle to play me a tune. The Tennessee Waltz. It was beautiful. Not perfect, but steady, confident—clear evidence of five years of practice. I clapped and told her how wonderful it was, but inside, I felt something else. Something closer to shame.
I have been attempting (though poorly) to learn the fiddle for four years. The last fiddle instructor I had likened learning the fiddle to having a stroke and having to relearn everything. I almost fell out of my chair. I smiled, but inside, I was freaking out. He told me I had to retrain my ear, rewire the way my arm moves, relearn how my hand balances—all of it. A total reset. To be honest, I wasn’t that encouraged, but I did appreciate the honesty.
But unlike other parts of my life, I am not consistent with my practice because, quite frankly, it’s painful to be really bad at something with strings—both to your ego and your ears. I am literally too embarrassed to play because I don’t want my neighbors to know how bad I am. But I am also too stubborn to quit. I crave knowing how to play, like it’s something inside me that I haven’t yet figured out how to manifest.
Part of this desire comes from family tradition. My original goal was to learn well enough that I could play alongside my Paw Paw Doy at his 90th birthday. But that day came and went in October 2024. He played, and I didn’t. Instead of joining him, I took a video of him playing, capturing his music instead of making my own. I told myself I had valid excuses—work, kids, not enough time for hobbies. But I knew the truth: I had avoided the frustration of learning.
Frustration Is Proof You’re Learning
Dr. Becky Kennedy talks about the learning space—that uncomfortable stretch between not knowing and knowing. She says, “Whenever you're frustrated, it literally means you are somewhere in the learning space. Resilience and success come from the length of time you can tolerate being in the learning space.”
I thought about this as I watched my friend’s daughter play. She practices every day and has been for years. And yet, she still struggles. She still gets frustrated. But unlike me, she doesn’t seem to let that stop her. Watching her reminded me what it’s like to be a kid, to wrestle with something hard without over-intellectualizing it. It made me think about how much belief—both our own and the belief others have in us—shapes what we take on.
I used to pride myself on being pretty good at most things I attempt, but lately, I’ve started to wonder if that’s actually a good thing. The more I sit with it, the more I see how often I’ve let my ego steer me toward the safe route—the things I know I can do well—rather than stepping into discomfort. It wasn’t until I got out of my comfort zone, trying things I had no natural skill for, that I really understood the difference between a growth mindset and a fixed mindset.
Back in 2016, I read Mindset: The New Psychology of Success by Carol Dweck, and it broke my heart a little. I saw how young Elaine just wanted to play it safe, to be good at things, to avoid failure at all costs. And in doing so, she had shut herself off from so many experiences. If you find yourself stuck in a creative box, fearful of stepping outside it, I can’t recommend that book enough. It changed my life.
The Learning Space and Storytelling
Filmmaking, storytelling, and any creative work demand a high tolerance for frustration. Every new project drops you right back into the learning space—figuring out a story’s structure, navigating a new technique, or trying to fund a film. The idea that frustration is proof you’re learning is a mindset shift. Instead of seeing struggle as failure, it’s actually a sign of progress.
A good parallel here is endurance—whether in art, education, or life. The people who make it aren’t necessarily the most talented; they’re just the ones who can stay in the learning space the longest. How many times have I nearly abandoned a film because I couldn’t quite see my way through production or the edit? How many stories have I wrestled with, feeling like I’d lost the thread, only to have a breakthrough by sheer persistence? Storytelling is a process of wrestling with the unknown—how to shape a narrative, how to make an audience feel something. The longer we can sit in that uncertainty, the better the work becomes.
Maybe the real work isn’t in mastering something quickly but in unlearning the need to "already know." Maybe creative endurance—the willingness to sit in the struggle—is the skill that matters most.
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And today? I’m deep in the learning space—making my first fiction short film (whoa, plenty of frustration there) and heading downtown to buy a new string for my fiddle (yes, I’ve broken it again). Wish me luck.
I hope this reminds you to keep pushing through your own creative frustrations. The struggle means you’re learning—so keep going.