Dear Jerry: How Do I Get Shit Done?

Jerry Grimes provides actionable steps to get yourself moving.

Q: Dear Jerry,

How do I get out of my head, stop reading books, and actually do shit?

Signed,

All Gas, No Go

Dear AGNG,

First off—this is the first time in recorded history someone’s asking how to stop reading books. Usually I’m out here begging people to crack one open that isn’t a take out menu or the back of a motor oil bottle. But listen, if you’re gonna stop reading books, at least give yourself the treat of reading Art Forearm once a week so you don’t get the literary withdrawals.

Here’s what I think: you don’t have a reading problem. You got a parking brake problem. Reading’s a beautiful thing. It keeps the engine running nice and smooth. But if you never drop it into drive, you’re just burning fuel out here. Sure, things sound productive, they probably smell productive, too. But you ain’t going nowhere.

You’re asking me why you’re idling. Because moving means you might stall, man. But let me tell you something…everything stalls. Everything breaks or fails eventually. I’m not being pessimistic, I’m just reading you the warranty.

I’ve seen cars come in looking like the quarter pound patty in an I-95-pile-up-burger. And my guy Alonzo—absolute magician, we call him the Dent & Ding Master—he’ll tap, pull, drop a few f-bombs, step back, try again. But he gets it back to beautiful every time, and you’d never guess it was a salvage title.

You know what Alonzo doesn’t do? Sit there reading manuals all day. My guy gets in and gets his hands dirty. And yeah, sometimes he makes it a lot worse before it gets better. That’s process, that’s practice.

Here’s what nobody likes: practice and failure are a package deal. You don’t get one without the other. Like grinding gears learning to drive a manual transmission. For anyone who remembers those.

Lot a people walking around like failure’s optional. Give it time. Your knees are gonna go just like your neighbor’s catalytic converter did, and you’re gonna be buying the cheaters next to the candy bars like the rest of us. System failure is undefeated.

You can do one of two things, my friend. You can be afraid of failing and bury your nose in a book or you can get interested in it. Only one of those things gets things built right.

You want actionable steps? Good news! It’s not really as mysterious as you’re making it out to be.

Step 1: Put the book down.

Not forever, just for now. You’re not reading for knowledge anymore, you’re reading for permission. And I’ll tell you right now—permission’s a lousy boss. If there’s anything I’ve learned working with codes departments, it’s that you’re always better off doing your own thing and hoping for forgiveness later.

Step 2: Do nothing.

Yeah, you read that right. Sit there. Stare at a wall or a ceiling fan or a sunset or the back bar at a place where no one asks you what you do. Let your thoughts rev a little. Let them get loud enough to bother you. I call this the pause.

You know how many hours I’ve spent staring at an Iron Duke before picking up a wrench? Embarrassing amount. But if you skip that part, you’ll end up taking the engine apart twice. Thinking isn’t in the way of doing, it’s the compressed airline to your impact wrench.

Step 3: Pay attention to the most annoying questions.

You’re not waiting for a good idea, you need to listen for the most persistent one. Don’t worry, it’ll come up once you stop drowning it out with other people’s words.

Step 4: Make something that’s not good.

You don’t drive your car onto jack stands, you have to jack the car first and then get the stands underneath it. So lower the bar on your expectations, and you can jack them up as you go.

There’s a secret ain’t nobody writing books about: you can’t make good shit without making bad shit first. It’s physically, spiritually, and mechanically impossible. So get in there! Make a mess. Strip a bolt. Then start over.

And when you get stuck again—and don’t worry, you will—pick the book back up if you want. Just don’t confuse reading a map with driving on the highway.

Now go do some shit!

–Jerry

Here’s the short version:

Trust yourself enough to learn from your own failures instead of outsourcing the experience.

Do you have a question for Jerry? Ask him for his advice on art materials, fabrication techniques, professional etiquette, lover’s quarrels, vintage cars, applying to grad school, sandwich-making, international travel, or any other areas of life where you could use some advice or good news.