How to stop being a serial starter

There are few things more exciting for a pianist than starting a brand new piece of music. The melody beckons, the notes offer access to limitless beauty, and we’re alive with motivation and creativity. We work our way through the score, play the parts we know well, and then boredom starts creeping into our practice. We’re tired of working on the problem areas. We wonder if we did, in fact, choose the right piece for ourselves. And then, all too often, we abandon the music, fall in love with a new piece, and start the process all over again. Sometimes we don’t see the pattern until months later when we have practiced diligently every day but have nothing we can play completely with musicality and assurance.

This pattern is one I know well. I’m a serial starter, and although I’d like to blame it on a short attention span, it lies deeper than that for me. Years ago, when I became disenchanted with my trail of partially or poorly learned works, I had to examine why I kept doing this, and where in the learning process I tended to abandon a piece of music.

I discovered that I was an 85%-er. I’d work diligently until I had the piece 85% learned and then dissatisfaction and lack of energy would kick in. At 85% I could play the piece all the way through, but without deep understanding and frequently without solid technical security. Unfortunately I had just enough command of the music to try to perform it publicly. Sometimes adrenaline would pull me through; but all too often, my choice to ignore the last 15% led to some embarrassing and uncomfortable moments on stage.

When I made the decision to change my practice habits and to learn a piece completely, I discovered an internal resistance that went much deeper than the piano. All the things I’d been telling myself—that I had a short attention span, that I was a lazy pianist—masked what was really going on: fear. I feared learning a piece to the best of my ability. And when I examined that fear deeply, I discovered that it was based in perfectionism and self-worth. I was afraid that if I learned the piece completely and still made mistakes while performing, it would confirm that I wasn’t a good pianist. Stopping at 85% allowed me to subconsciously assure myself that even if I had a rough performance, I would have played perfectly had I known the piece better.

I wish I could report that knowing all of this gave me instant freedom from my 85% habit. Unfortunately, however, it’s still something I struggle with in my practicing, as well as in other parts of my life. It took experiencing a few failures—even when I’d done my best— to discover that I could survive them. Even better, those honest failures taught me that I’d rather fail after having given 100% than let myself down by not having the integrity to finish that last 15%. Now when I feel myself hit the 85% wall I ask myself these questions. They help me work past my resistance and give me motivation to tackle the remaining 15%. Perhaps, if you’re a fellow serial starter, you may find them helpful for you as well.

Do I still like the piece?

Sometimes the answer to this is no, and if I can say with honesty that I don’t like the music, I allow myself to walk away from it. Most of the time, however, I still like the music and am just disenchanted with the work I need to do in order to finish learning it.

Is the music too hard for me?

I’m usually realistic about what I do and don’t play well, but sometimes I fall for pieces that are simply outside my playing level. When I recognize this, I have to ask myself if I’m capable of building the technique needed to play it well. If so, it’s motivation to keep working. If not, I can quit the piece without feeling that I’ve failed it, or myself.

Is it the right time to play the piece?

There’s a collection of pieces I love and am eager to finish learning, but because I worked on them during the last few months of my Mom’s life, and through her death, they are just too raw for me to play right now. But I’ve shelved the music knowing that someday I’ll be ready to return to it and learn it well.

What do I need to do to finish the last 15%?

Almost every time what’s needed is to stop playing the piece all the way through, hoping I’ll skate through the hard parts, and drill down on the technical challenges or the passages that I’m “playing and praying” I’ll execute cleanly. How do I know if there are passages I don’t yet know well, even if I get lucky and play them accurately? When I feel relief at having made it through without the music falling apart.

The act of asking and answering these questions gives me the enthusiasm and momentum to go back to the score and finish the last 15% of the work. This frees me to rehearse the problem areas in a way that feels more like mining for gold rather than digging a latrine. I celebrate every musical victory, no matter how small, and then one day, it clicks into place. The music flows out of my fingers, glossy and expressive. It breathes. It’s playful. And it has integrity. That’s when I feel the elation of creating moments of beauty—not by luck, but through giving 100% of myself to the effort.

Photo by Maris Masatar courtesy of Upsplash