Have you even tried?
Capital-bias and how to be bad at something.
I felt an unexpected wave of envy. Ugly, embarrassing, and confusing.
I was looking at a friend’s watercolour post-cards that she had for sale at a neighbourhood craft fair. They were absolutely gorgeous.
I’d been watching her exploration unfold over the previous few weeks on Instagram. From her first experimentations painting views in her house — a corner chair, the garden shed — to cute little abstract people, to now these thoughtful, elegant, and beautiful postcards that people were delighting over.
Mixed with the envy, I also felt in awe. And I told her so.
“I’m so impressed with your watercolours, they’re stunning.”
“Thank you” she replied, graciously.
“I’ve always wanted to get into painting” I told her. Which was true. And the heart of the unexpected envy.
“Well, have you tried?” She asked, earnestly and with kindness. I laughed to myself.
I hadn’t, actually, tried. Not even once. I had a genuine interest in painting, I had the means of production (a little watercolour kit and paper I had bought 8 years ago), I had the time, and yet there I was, envious of her paintings while I had never even so much as sat down with a paintbrush in hand.
This was three months ago and I still haven’t. And ever since that interaction, every time my fiancé or I say “I’ve always wanted to…” the other will reply, in jest, “well, have you even tried?”
It’s become a running joke but the more and more it’s come up the more I’ve been wondering “why haven’t I tried?”
Intellectually, I totally and utterly and wholeheartedly disagree with this. The real reason why I haven’t even tried is because I am terrified of being bad at it. And as long as I never try, I can live under the delusion that if I did try I would be really really good.
Another reason why I haven’t even tried is because I am pre-judging my non-existent artwork against its propensity to make money.
And a part of me (an icky part, yes) questions the worth of my work if it does not lead to financial gain. These two facts are embarrassing, ridiculous, and probably pretty common. We often judge the value of our actions against the values of capitalism.
I call this capital-bias.
The bias of judging our behaviour against its financial value above all else.
Frustratingly, this capital-bias can stop us from doing the things in our life that would bring us the most joy.
Perhaps it’s the reason why retired-folk seem to be the ones who have hobbies. Because they have finally extracted themselves from capital-bias. From a world in which their predominant identity is tied to the ways in which they make money. In fact, their identity becomes one that is boldly in defiance of productivity for financial-gains.
In reflecting on this, I wondered whether being more clear to myself might help, and gave myself the following prompt: choose a hobby that you are never, ever allowed to make money from. And then try it.
So next time envy whispers, I’ll let it become an invitation.
And I’ll ask myself: have I even tried?
PS: Join the live Q+A tomorrow with Amira Barger, Author of The Price of Nice (Penguin, Oct 2025) to ask all your questions about landing a book deal with the right agent
beautiful watercolor!