If They Can Do it, I Can Do it

Today, I read an incredible article by Bonnie B about her journey in the gaming industry. It was packed with tidbits that I could relate to and insights that I could learn from. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that she put her story out there.

But there was one bit in particular that really spoke to where I find myself today:

If they can do it, you can do it.

Growing up, I had this line wrong. I would tell myself, "If they can do it, they must have something that I don't." I always pushed myself to be better in everything I did, but I always did it through the lens of, "What am I missing, and how can I get it?" rather than believing I could do great things with what I had.

My parents always knew I had what it took, but I struggled to believe them. So despite the fact that my dad started teaching me binary at a young age, that I learned how to write HTML via Neopets, or that I had a habit of programming text adventures into calculators, I convinced myself that I didn't have what it took to be a programmer. 

From all the coding experience I had, I knew that one missed parenthesis could break the game. And despite the fact that I had become very proficient at identifying and fixing such errors, I had convinced myself that "real" programmers didn't make such mistakes. I wanted to pursue computer science and shoot for a career in the gaming industry, but I told myself that I wasn't talented enough to make the cut. 

Fast forward to today, and now I know better. I worked at a company where 1/8th of an inch could mean the difference between success or literally millions of pieces going into the garbage. It was a very detail oriented, time-sensitive environment, and I learned a very important lesson: it wasn't about not making mistakes. It was about catching those mistakes early and often. No one, and I mean no one gets through a week without making a single blunder. And thanks to what I learned, only one major error ever made it onto my record across my entire two-and-a-half year career. To put that in perspective, the average coordinator had two to three major issues per year. So I should have had at least 5 such errors.

But even after I left Data-Mail, I still lacked confidence. I didn't have the right degrees, I didn't have the right talent, and I didn't know the right people. I was like Cruz Ramirez in Cars 3. I just didn't think I had what it took.

So, I took another safe bet and decided to try something everyone said I was good at: writing. I learned a lot from that path, and I met a lot of fantastic people. But I also learned that it wasn't the industry from me.The range of creativity and collaboration was fairly limited when compared to other industries. You had the writer, the cover artist, and sometimes the voice actor, and the three rarely met each other.

But in the gaming industry, the level of collaboration is astounding. You have writers, programmers, designers, sound designers, animation designers, level designers, the list goes on. And while these different pieces don't always communicate directly, the level to which these elements must find cohesion carries through into the games. And I find that incredibly fascinating and exciting.

And as I've met developers and designers over the last year, I've learned that while making games is far more complex than anyone realizes, the people who make it happen started out like me. They made mistakes, and they kept trying anyway.

So now I finally believe, "If they can do it, so can I."

Thanks to Bonnie, Cruz Ramirez, and all the other fantastic people who have shared their stories with me, I am finally on my way. While I may still struggle with that infamous impostor syndrome, now I know that I'm not the only one. And I know that I have the skills and the drive to succeed despite that.

So I'm going to pull up Bonnie's article one more time. I'm going to put a very important piece of advice down on a Post-it note, and I'm going to stick it to my monitor:

Make yourself proud.