In 2004 I utterly failed to learn to play the guitar.

It all started at a party. It was at a friend’s place; he and his girlfriend lived right by the beach in Hawaii, where we were all stationed at the time (this was back in my Air Force days). It was a great party; the soundtrack would’ve been Van Morrison and Red Hot Chili Peppers if it was in a movie.

Late in the evening this guy Jim, who I knew casually, whipped out a guitar and started singing and playing in the living room. The whole party gravitated towards him, and he serenaded us with James Taylor songs for what seemed like forever. He held us all in the palm of his hand with the music.

I decided I had to learn to play the guitar.

I got lucky; a friend had one that he rarely used and let me borrow. It made sounds like screaming children whenever I plucked at it, as if it were offended by my touch.

My next door neighbor heard the carnage and took pity on me. He tuned the guitar, and taught me the first few chords of Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd. I practiced them over and over until they actually sounded something like they were supposed to. It took quite a while.

Meanwhile, the memory of how I’d felt at the party was fading. I started feeling pretty bad about my progress so far, and my motivation started drying up. I didn’t even know the rest of this first song yet, let alone all the other songs I’d need to know before I could make my party debut as a guitar expert. AND I’d have to learn to sing while playing! It was hopeless.

Fast forward a few weeks and the guitar had moved from the corner of my room to the back of my closet. Even looking at it brought up feelings of shame and inadequacy. I was done.

— — —

I’ve heard the same story from others too often to think I’m the only one who’s had that kind of experience. But what goes wrong when that happens?

I started out with the best of intentions. Why didn’t I get anywhere? Was it me? Was I just not cut out for learning the guitar?

I made this mistake a lot in those days. I’d see someone with a cool skill that made them popular and I’d vow to pick it up. I’d put in a little effort, make some minor progress, then get frustrated and give up.

Thankfully, I learned something from those crushing, but predictable, failures. It wasn’t that I was a broken person, unable to learn or succeed (as I though more than once).

It was that I consistently violated all of the three cardinal rules of making progress.

#1 Set Clear Goals

I thought “learn to play the guitar” was a pretty clear goal. But in reality, I didn’t even care about the guitar. If I’d been honest with myself I’d have known that my real “goal” was to be like Jim: to be the cool guy at the party who made everyone feel good. Thinking I could get there just by learning the guitar was unreasonable.

This meant my motivation was compromised from the outset. Achieving my true goal was so far removed from the process of learning to play guitar that they were basically unrelated. If I’d thought it through, I could’ve guessed I might lose steam once it got hard.

But even if I’d really been passionate about learning the guitar, I should have set specific, guitar-related goals. I only had one, very long-term goal. That was fine, but I also needed short-term goals to stay motivated and mark progress. Learning to play just one song might have been a good one. Or maybe just learning some basic chords.

Whatever I chose, it needed to be reasonable and inspiring while aligning with my long-term goal. If I’d made a short-term goal of learning to play Wish You Were Here, then I’d have seen that the progress I did make was actually pretty good!

Learning to play the guitar well is a years-long endeavor for most people. Even with good goals, just setting the intention and hoping for the best wasn’t enough…

#2 Make a Plan

My approach to the problem was simplistic verging on idiotic. My plan was this: step 1) learn to play the guitar; step 2) charm everyone at parties. That was only slightly better than my life plan at the time which was something like: 1) don’t die, 2) get rich.

That period was not a high point in my personal growth. I was constantly aiming at outcomes instead of actions, and that’s always a bad idea. I should have been concentrating on the things I had direct control over: the amount of time I put in, the consistency of my effort, etc.

I should have taken a hard look at what it would take to succeed. Then I could have broken success down into specific tasks that I could reasonably accomplish.

But because I just barreled ahead, even my obvious progress felt insufficient. Had I marked out a path for myself, I would have been able to really see my progress instead of feeling crushing defeat at every turn. My efforts would have even sparked motivation to continue. And the ONLY difference would have been the work I put into setting up my plan.

Still, as indispensable as making a plan is, it doesn’t matter unless you stick to it…

#3 Make Yourself Accountable

I told the friend who lent me the guitar that I was thinking of learning to play. I said the same to the neighbor who showed me the beginning of my first song. But I didn’t make a clear plan, and I didn’t COMMIT to anyone other than myself. As much as I’d like to believe that I’m perfectly accountable to myself at all times, it’s simply not the case. I don’t think I’m alone in that.

The addition of a social element to planning is invaluable. If you tell yourself that you’ll go running at 6am every day of the week, you’re far less likely to do it than if you make a plan to run with someone else. Especially if it’s someone you don’t want to disappoint. I could have made a plan to practice guitar for 30 minutes a day, but making that a strong commitment to someone else would have made me much more likely to stick to it.

If you are a person who believes it is important to keep your word (and I think that most of us are), then committing out loud to others can turn your self-suggestion into an obligation. It essentially makes you more likely to do what you claim to want to do.

— — —

I never went back to the guitar. I just didn’t have the passion for it, and it turns out there are other ways to be the cool guy at the party. But with every new skill I’ve mastered since then, I pay close attention to these three rules.

They works not only for learning new skills, but for giving up bad habits and for completing projects. The principles are broad enough that they apply to almost any endeavor.

Even when this process is followed, the actual work involved in making progress still lies ahead. But, by following these rules, the success we all desire turns from a vague, incoherent wish into a solid, reachable reality.