The Game of Yes and No

How Embracing New Experiences is Fuel for Success

Growing up, I never saw myself as creative. My stick figure drawings and tone-deaf singing drew snickers from all but the most charitable audiences. I told myself a story that I wasn’t good at these things, so I never practiced and thus never got better. I needed a fine arts credit to graduate from college, so I looked for the easiest class I could find. I saw Music 2 scheduled at a reasonable hour (I was not a morning person), so I signed up. Lower-numbered classes are more introductory, and I learned to play the recorder in elementary school, so I was confident this class should be no problem. I arrived early to a small, plain classroom with fluorescent lighting and faded off-white paint on the walls. The grand piano beside the blackboard was the only thing differentiating it from nearly every other classroom. I found a chair and waited for class to begin.

I started talking to a cute Asian girl to my left. She was thin, with pale skin, long hair, and dimples. I smiled at her as I angled for a date after class. She had a musical instrument with her in an oddly shaped case; I raised an eyebrow and pointed at it, suggesting I wanted to know more.

“It’s a violin,” she explained with a patient cadence. “I play second chair at the New Hampshire Philharmonic.”

“Wow,” I exclaimed, surprised she would take an easy intro class like Music 2. She gave me a brief, disinterested look before turning away—a date seemed unlikely.

A booming voice caught my attention, and I turned to my right to see a jovial, rotund fellow in a blue and gray sweater. He casually mentioned that he had just returned from his opera performance in Vienna.

Huh.

Like an old car low on oil sputtering to life, my stalled brain finally caught up to the situation. I was in the wrong room—this was no intro class.

I gathered my things and stood up to leave just as the professor bounded through the door. Professor Swayne was wearing a white polo shirt with a sweater wrapped around his neck, looking like he had just leaped out of an American Eagle catalog. He was short, but his vibrant energy inflated his presence, so he felt like he towered over us. His wide grin took in the room as he made eye contact with each student and settled behind the concert piano at the front of the class.

It was too awkward to leave now. I sat back down.

His ebony head reflected the fluorescent light of the classroom as he began to play. His fingers danced across the keys as he played and sang a few bars from several popular operas and musicals. Periodically, he would pause and play just two notes, calling on students to identify the tonal difference by ear.

“Minor second!” shouted the violinist to my left in response to one note pair.

“Full octave!” replied the young Pavarotti on my right when called on.

In such a small class, I couldn’t hide my confusion when my turn came. I helplessly shrugged my shoulders when presented with my own notes to identify. I didn’t know what an octave was and was afraid to ask.

The professor kindly nodded and moved on, his energy and enthusiasm barely dampened by my cluelessness. “Welcome to advanced music theory. It is my honor to teach so many talented students. In this class, we will be composing and playing our own original pieces. You will turn in the piece you compose in musical notation form for the midterm and play your piece live in concert for the final.”

At that moment, my stomach made a valiant effort to leap back into my throat. My eyes opened wide. I couldn’t even read music, let alone write my own piece. My foot twitched as I wondered how quickly I could run to the registrar and drop the class.

My incompetence got more blatant as the lesson continued. I watched the analog wall clock tick with agonizing slowness. After what felt like half a day, the sixty-minute class mercifully concluded.

“Justin, could you stay behind for a minute?” Professor Swayne interrupted my desperate escape attempt as everyone else filed out of the room. My head dropped as I waited for the inevitable.

“You don’t seem to have the prerequisites for this class.” His voice was kind as he stated the obvious.

“Yes, I think I’m in the wrong place.” I smiled and shrugged. I was never going to sign up for a music class again.

With a twinkle in his eye, he replied, “If you want, I could tutor you outside of class to help get you up to speed.” I cocked my head, confused. Did he not hear how terrible I was? He was too nice. I decided to be nice in return.

“That is so kind of you! I will definitely take you up on that offer,” I lied, planning never to see this man again.

He didn’t miss a beat. “That’s great. What are you up to now?”

Stunned, I stumbled out a, “Uh… nothing, I guess.”

“Great! Let’s go over some fundamentals.” He was serious. And I had no excuse to get out of it.

Two full hours later, through patient instruction, Professor Swayne had taught me how to read music and even convinced me that my tone-deaf ears could actually learn to recognize musical notes. In case you were wondering, the trick is to take songs you already know and use those as references. The “Dah Dum” of the Jaws theme song is a minor second. The low to high of the word “Some-where” in Somewhere Over the Rainbow is a full octave.

His passion for instruction and his investment in me touched me deeply. I stayed in the class but dropped another class instead so I could focus on music.

Professor Swayne was true to his word as he patiently guided me through countless mistakes and missed notes along the way. I worked harder that summer than I had ever worked in my entire life. By the end of class, I could play my own composed song on the piano. It wasn’t a world-class performance, but it was something I never thought possible just three months earlier. My relationship with music and my belief in my own ability to learn new things was changed forever. Steve Swayne and I have stayed friends for decades, and his example as a teacher is a big part of why I enjoy teaching myself. That summer, I learned the three-stage formula for growth:

Stage 1: Say Yes

Stage 2: Get Feedback

Stage 3: Say No

Stage 1: Say Yes

When I was offered the chance to stay in class, every part of me screamed to flee the room and say “No.” The fact that I said “Yes” changed my life. Saying yes to trying new things and doing things outside of your comfort zone is the first stage of growth.

When I first started playing Magic: The Gathering, it was because I saw other people playing and sat down to give it a try. I got crushed in my early games but learned something each time. I soon built my own deck and would play every week, losing often but refining my skills. When friends invited me to drive four hours to the State Championships, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I said yes and came along for the ride. After winning that event, I was on my way to win the U.S. National Championships. That changed the course of my life in ways I could never have predicted.

I was able to take the path I did because I said yes. Throughout my youth, I was eager to try new things. I joined the debate team, took martial arts classes, and tried soccer, wrestling, and a dozen other activities. To be clear, I was terrible at most of these activities. My hand-eye coordination is laughably bad, and my instincts in fighting are more tuned to conflicts that don’t involve so much touching. But I learned a lot about what I did and did not like. By saying yes to a variety of opportunities, I created the space to discover what I truly enjoyed.

Many of us think we know what we want from a very young age. We envision what life will be like as a rockstar or a pro athlete and see in our mind only the accolades and image of success in a given field. We don’t think about the day-to-day life that led to those public successes. We don’t think about how fulfilling that day-to-day is, even if public success never materializes. The only way we learn these things is by trying them. I loved the idea of being a lawyer, but the reality of reviewing contracts and arguing case law was mind-numbing for me. For others, these tasks are engaging and enlivening. Will you enjoy the daily routines and practices of your career? There is no way to know without giving them a try to see how it feels.

When you are young or when you feel lost, say yes to new experiences and activities as often as possible. Spend a few weeks getting used to each activity and seeing if it is a good fit for you. This amount of time forces you to push past the initial discomfort of trying something new. After that, if you love it, keep going! If not, let it go and move on.

While in stage one, say yes to life. Embrace random opportunities. Unforeseeable doors will open to you.

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Stage 2: Get Feedback

It doesn’t take ten thousand hours to master a subject; it takes a thousand feedback cycles. Don’t worry about hours spent; worry about how you can create meaningful loops to learn. My time with Professor Swayne was invaluable because, every day, I received instant feedback. He didn’t let me shy away from answering questions and performing. I mastered something that would have taken me years in three months because of this tight feedback loop.

Feedback loops are an essential part of good game design. We design games to give tight feedback in the form of victory points, progress bars, rankings, etc., to let you know when you are on the right track. Feedback can come from great mentors like Professor Swayne or from the harsh realities of competition. My career in Magic took off not because I was naturally gifted but because I played relentlessly, losing games and deconstructing why I lost week after week.

Whenever you say yes to something, build a feedback loop so you can learn quickly. If you are learning a new language, find someone you can speak it to regularly (services like italki.com are great for this). If you are learning an instrument, find a program to grade your performance as you play. Even better, start performing weekly at a local open mic. If you are working on a business idea, get the concept in front of your target customer as soon as possible.

This process is painful. You will not feel ready, and you will want to spend more time learning and incubating. Push past the discomfort. Failure is feedback. Feedback leads to learning, and learning leads to success.

Stage 3: Say No

Saying yes to nearly everything is the best way to find your path in life and discover new things about yourself along the way. Once you start to become successful, however, the formula changes. In this phase, we shift focus from exploration to optimization.

When you are in an optimization phase, saying no to everything but that which you are trying to optimize is critical. Life rewards focus. At the same time, our world is constantly trying to distract us. Every new fad, business opportunity, recreational activity, and creative project is out there vying for your attention. If you try to pursue all of them, you will never make significant progress in any of them.

To do your best work, you need to create space for the opportunities that really make a difference. As Derek Sivers says, each decision is a “Hell Yeah!” or a “No.” Others have referred to this visceral feeling as a whole body yes. If you aren’t enthusiastic about a new opportunity—don’t do it. Pick no more than three critical focus areas and cut out everything else so you can dive deep into the things you already know you love. Keep on this path, and you will see exponential growth in your accomplishments.

These stages are cyclical. After optimizing for a while, you are likely to get restless again. If you feel dissatisfied with your current path, you can return to “Yes” mode. This is natural and expected as we get older and our priorities change. But outside of those rare shifts, stay ruthlessly focused on your current goal. Double down on what you love and keep space open for the next amazing opportunity that comes your way.

Exercise: Yes or No?

Are you in a Yes phase or a No phase of your life? Your first instinctual answer is likely the right one. You are in a No phase if you are energized and excited about your goals. If you feel a bit lost and feel your current tasks are disconnected from your goals, then you are in a Yes phase.

If you are in a Yes phase, pick something new to try. Make a list of 10 things that you are excited about. Pick one and take action. Sign up for a new class, try out a new side hustle, or join a new social group. Commit to it for four weeks. Set up feedback loops at least weekly to help you assess your progress.

If you are in a No phase, figure out what you can cut out of your life to make room for what really matters. List ten things you want to do or are already committed to. Pick one to cut out right now. If you can’t eliminate it, try to reduce the time it takes in your life. Remember that saying “No” to something doesn’t mean saying “No” forever; it just means “not right now.” Keep your list of “No” items to refer back to the next time you enter a Yes phase.