Every beginner needs a simplified truth—a useful fiction that helps us survive the first steps.

We need temporary signposts—something to show us what “good” looks like.

When you start learning finance, interest rates and amortization schedules can feel like a foreign language. A simple early rule of thumb? Loans below 4% are usually fine. Credit card rates over 12% are dangerous. Of course, the real world is messier—but that mess is too much for day one.

This principle of early signposts shows up in creative fields too—like music. Major chords are "happy," minor chords are "sad." But as we go deeper, we realize it’s not the chord—it’s the context.

A tritone substitution can feel joyful or ominous depending on how it’s used. Brian Wilson, for example, uses bright bells and major chords in You Still Believe in Me—a song about betrayal. So, are those chords still “happy”?

That level of nuance isn’t important when we're getting started. In fact, it can be counterproductive. Dump too much subtlety on a beginner, and it’s like drowning a seedling with fertilizer—they can’t absorb it yet.

Small goalposts—small fictions that orient us—help keep us moving forward. Once we’ve integrated a piece of knowledge, we can descend another level into nuance.

We don't outgrow the fictions—we just replace them with better ones. Each layer of mastery builds on the one before it.

Mastery doesn’t begin with complexity—it begins with a useful fiction.