Permission to Fail

The Hidden Lesson in Every Botched Project

There’s this quiet lie that sneaks into the minds of makers — the idea that everyone else has it all figured out. That their tools never slip, their dye never runs, and their edges are always perfectly burnished. That if you mess up, maybe you’re just not cut out for this.

That’s nonsense.

As a self-taught leatherworker and a lifelong maker, I never waited for permission to create. I’ve always had that bit of rebel in me — that “why not me?” energy. But I did need someone to give me permission to fail. Really fail. Publicly. And keep going anyway.

Strangely enough, the person who unlocked that for me wasn’t someone I knew personally. It was Alec Steele — a blacksmith on YouTube. Watching him post videos of projects that went totally off the rails, with full transparency and humor, gave me the freedom to say:

“Oh… it’s okay to show the mess.”

That mindset has saved me countless times. In my own classes, I see students of all levels — and someone always hits that wall. You know the one: the cuts aren’t clean, the stitches go wonky, the dye looks like a spilled coffee stain. I see the frustration build. Hands shaking. Eyes darting to others who are flying through their project.

That’s when I step in. We take a breath together. We remember why we’re here — not to be perfect, but to play. To learn. To recharge the creative battery. Sometimes, to learn how not to do something so we can improve the next time.

That’s the heart of my teaching: learn to love the process. Even the part where it all goes sideways.

Trust me, I’ve had my share of those moments. I once spent hours trying to assemble a duffel bag for my wife — she wanted it to match the color of her car, and I found the perfect leather. Everything seemed right… until I realized the end panels weren’t fitting. I knew I measured correctly. I hand-stitched it. Ripped the stitches out. Tried again. Still wrong.

Four times I did this. Four times I cursed and questioned everything.

Eventually, I posted photos in a leatherworking group, and someone casually said, “Hey, I think you matched A to A instead of A to B.” That was it. Just a simple flip. I had tunnel vision and couldn’t see it. The solution came instantly — because I asked for help.

That’s a lesson I now carry with me: frustration is normal. Getting mad is okay. But don’t sit in the spiral. Ask for help. Get a second set of eyes. Share your work, even the broken stuff.

Because the truth is, everyone messes up. What separates a master from a beginner isn’t perfection — it’s how many times they were willing to try again.

So to anyone reading this who’s ever wanted to launch a half-finished wallet across the room: you’re not alone. You’re learning. You’re growing. And you’ve got permission to fail.

Now get back in the ring and swing again.