It’s been long understood that quality rules quantity, every time. This is an unspoken and universally recognized idea.
Most of us prefer it that way.
Producing quality work is of the utmost importance in a consumeristic society. But what if quantity was necessary for achieving quality?
It wasn’t something I thought much about until I came across an excerpt that someone else pointed out in a book:
“In the book Art and Fear, the authors tell a story about a ceramics teacher who divided his class into two halves. One group would be graded on the quality of their work, while the other would be graded on quantity — their raw output.”
When grading time came around, the results were telling: “The works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the “quantity” group were busy churning out piles of work — and learning from their mistakes — the “quality” group had sat around theorizing about perfection…
Sometimes in our “perfectionist” mindset, we can get sucked into this idea that the first time has to be the best time.
When in life is that ever true?
The first time we try to learn an instrument, we’re just not good at it. When we learn a new sport, try a new recipe, or follow along with a Bob Ross instructional painting video, we’re going to struggle a bit.
It isn’t going to be perfect, nor will it be of the best quality.
There’s something to be said of our output. The ability to churn out work quickly—no matter how sloppy that first draft might be—is important.
Of course this can’t apply to everything. But there are many things in life that come with a certain expectation.
We want to reach the heights in our jobs, our hobbies, and our knowledge in a given area. Maybe we won’t get it right the first time. Hell, we won’t get it right the 10th time.
But the continual output—quantity—could be our greatest tool in the quest for quality.
We need room to make mistakes. We need spots in our lives that we can alter and improve.
An author’s novel is usually chewed up and spit out. And then it’s chewed up some more. It gets put in a blender just to come out on the other side a sharpened product.
The authors from Art and Fear would most likely tell you to start. Whatever it is you're doing.
And then they might encourage you to put out as much work as you can. It might honestly be the only way you reach the quality that you're after.
Is there anything in your life that you can’t seem to finish because it isn’t perfect yet? Is there anything that you’re hesitant about because you aren’t sure it’ll be a worthy finished product? What’s stopping you from starting? Feel free to share your thoughts.