Why do we sometimes struggle to implement new ideas, even after we've studied and learned them? That question followed me for years before a music school professor answered it with three words.
When Preparation Becomes Its Own Enemy
I attended the Belmont University School of Music from 2014 to 2018, spending every day in class from 8 in the morning to 8 in the evening. Weekends brought masterclasses with out-of-town industry professionals, and on top of all of that, students were expected to keep pace with their academic coursework outside the music school.
The Musical Theatre program ran on an experiential learning model, which meant skipping class once in a while wasn't just frowned upon — it could cost you your grade. Go out too late, stay up too long, and you paid for it in the next morning's ballet session or your 8 AM acting class. The work was demanding, and the level of competition rivaled that of a professional athletic program.
All of that shaped a particular kind of mindset. A rigorous one. But at eighteen years old, that rigor had a shadow side: I became so focused on criticism, notes, and technicalities that I gradually lost sight of why I had come there in the first place.
The Moment Before the First Note
It came to a head one afternoon in a performance class. Somewhere between handing in the preparatory packet I had completed before performing and opening my mouth to sing the first note, my mind ran a full checklist: How is my posture? Do I have jaw tension? What does the character want in this song? What is my "moment before"? And then, in a small panic: this song is in Italian. Do I even remember the words?
I had not started yet, and I was already somewhere else entirely.
My professor noticed. She stopped me before the accompanist even played the intro. She looked at me and said: "You have the technique. You've done the work. Just sing."
Three Words That Changed Everything
That instruction did not just improve my performance that afternoon. It opened a conversation among the whole class that lasted long after my song ended.
The professor's point was precise: after the preparation, it is imperative to trust the work and simply perform. The study, the practice, the repetition — all of it has a purpose. But that purpose ends where the performance begins. At some point, the work has to move from the preparation room into the room where it actually counts.
Three words that named something I had been doing — and gave me a way to stop.
A Question Worth Taking Into Your Work
That conversation led me to a deeper one with myself. Two questions I have carried into every professional context since.
First: how often do we actually have what it takes to relax and execute something successfully, precisely because we have already done the work required to do it well?
Second, and perhaps more important for anyone leading a team: how can leaders remind people to let go of the thoughts that distract them from executing what they have already prepared for?
Those are not the same question, but they point at the same problem. The first is personal — about self-trust and the cost of over-monitoring your own performance in the moment. The second is relational. It asks whether we are paying enough attention to the people around us to recognize when someone else is stuck inside their own checklist.
What Leaders Owe Their People
The answer to the second question is simpler than it sounds. It comes down to caring about others enough to notice, and then saying something.
Great coaches do not just build skill. They recognize the moment when skill is no longer the bottleneck — when the preparation is done and the only thing standing between a person and their best performance is mental noise. That is the moment that calls for a different kind of intervention. Not more instruction. Not additional feedback. Just: you have the technique. Trust it. Go.
That is what my professor did. And it is what the best coaches, managers, and leaders I have observed do for the people around them. They pay close enough attention to know when someone is ready. And then they give that person permission to stop thinking and start doing.
Trust the Work, Then Let Go
Since making my transition into a corporate role at Braintrust, I have had a front-row seat to many coaching calls and conversations. And one pattern shows up consistently: people get nervous to put new communication skills to the test.
At first, there is always a lot to remember when applying a new framework to a sales call or when stepping into a leadership conversation with new tools. That reaction is completely normal. Learning a framework and living a framework are two different things, and the gap between them can feel large in the moment.
But the only way to close that gap is to take it out of your head and out into the world. Applying new things is uncomfortable, especially at first. When someone around you is clearly ready — when they have done the reps, internalized the principle, and built the muscle — the most useful thing you can do as a leader is remind them of what my professor reminded me.
You have the technique. You've done the work. Just sing.
If you are thinking about how to build that kind of coaching culture in your organization, start a conversation with the Braintrust team — we work with leadership and sales teams to develop the communication habits that make new skills actually hold.
