The more you do, the more experience you have and the next time

Host: The night settled over the city like velvet — smooth, heavy, and full of half-finished thoughts. Through the tall windows of a small, dimly lit film studio, the glow of the editing screens bathed everything in hues of blue and gold. On the walls hung posters of old films — silent echoes of heroes and dreamers, of choices made and consequences framed in light.

In the center of the room sat Jack, shoulders hunched, fingers tapping restlessly against the desk. The screen before him flickered with the final scene of a project he wasn’t sure he believed in anymore. Behind him, Jeeny leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him in the soft patience of someone who had seen this mood many times before.

Jeeny: “Andy Lau once said, ‘The more you do, the more experience you have and the next time it will be easier to choose the right thing.’”

Host: Jack didn’t look up. His grey eyes reflected the light of the screen — bright, but weary.

Jack: “Easy to say when you’re Andy Lau — when all your choices seem to work out.”

Jeeny: “You think he meant it that way?”

Jack: sighing “Maybe. Or maybe he forgot what it’s like to get it wrong the first hundred times.”

Jeeny: “No one forgets that. Not even the successful ones. They just learn to treat failure as rehearsal.”

Host: The faint hum of the computer filled the silence. Outside, the rain had started again — soft, steady, tapping like fingers against the glass.

Jack: “You ever think experience is just a fancy word for exhaustion?”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “Only if you don’t learn from it.”

Jack: “And what if you don’t know what you’re supposed to learn?”

Jeeny: “Then keep doing. Keep moving. That’s what Lau meant — you don’t wait for clarity; you earn it through motion.”

Host: Jack leaned back, running a hand through his hair. The light from the monitor painted him in weary strokes.

Jack: “I used to think every decision had to be right. That there was some perfect path waiting for me if I just tried hard enough to find it.”

Jeeny: “And now?”

Jack: “Now I just try not to wreck everything along the way.”

Jeeny: “That’s not failure, Jack. That’s growth.”

Host: She walked closer, pulling up a chair beside him. The two sat in the glow of the screen — two silhouettes carved out of quiet determination.

Jeeny: “Do you remember your first short film? The one that barely made sense?”

Jack: chuckling “You mean the one where the camera fell halfway through and I pretended it was an artistic metaphor?”

Jeeny: “Yes. That one. You hated it.”

Jack: “I still do.”

Jeeny: “And yet, without it, you wouldn’t be here. That disaster taught you more about direction than any success ever could.”

Jack: “You make failure sound noble.”

Jeeny: “It is — if you survive it.”

Host: The rain grew heavier now, drumming against the windowpane like applause for persistence. Jeeny turned toward him, her eyes glimmering in the light.

Jeeny: “You know, Lau’s words are simple — but they carry something most people overlook. He’s not glorifying action for its own sake. He’s saying experience is the bridge between confusion and wisdom. The more you try, the more you know how to try better.”

Jack: “So experience isn’t proof you’ve done something right — it’s evidence you cared enough to keep doing it.”

Jeeny: “Exactly.”

Host: Jack’s gaze softened, tracing the frozen image on the monitor — a still frame of a man standing alone under streetlights, rain falling all around him.

Jack: “You think I’ll ever get it right? The film, the choices, life?”

Jeeny: gently “Getting it right isn’t the goal. Getting it real is.”

Jack: quietly “Real doesn’t always win awards.”

Jeeny: “No. But it lasts longer.”

Host: A flash of lightning illuminated the room for a brief second, followed by distant thunder — a low, steady reminder of how big the world was and how small their mistakes really were.

Jack: “You know, I used to envy people who seemed to know exactly what they were doing.”

Jeeny: “And now?”

Jack: “Now I think they’re just good at pretending.”

Jeeny: “Pretending is fine. Most of us do it. But doing — even when you’re unsure — that’s where courage lives.”

Host: She stood, walking to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The city lights below blurred into rivers of color — mistakes and beauty melting together.

Jeeny: “Every choice we make is like this rain. Some drops hit the mark. Others scatter. But they all move us forward.”

Jack: softly “Until one day, we finally choose right.”

Jeeny: “No. Until one day, we stop fearing wrong.”

Host: Jack stared at her, a quiet recognition dawning in his eyes — the kind that doesn’t need words.

Jack: “You think experience ever really makes things easier?”

Jeeny: “Not easier. Just clearer. You stop asking, ‘What if I fail?’ and start asking, ‘What happens if I don’t try?’”

Host: The clock ticked softly behind them. The screen went black, then flickered back to life — a blank timeline waiting for another edit, another chance.

Jack: “You know, I think that’s why I keep doing this — even when I’m not sure. Because every wrong cut, every missed moment, teaches me something the easy scenes never could.”

Jeeny: “That’s the point. The more you do, the more you understand the rhythm of your own mistakes. Until one day, you don’t avoid them — you compose with them.”

Jack: smiling faintly “You make life sound like jazz.”

Jeeny: “Isn’t it? Improvised, imperfect, but full of soul.”

Host: Outside, the storm began to fade. The rain softened to a whisper, and the world felt new again — clean, unburdened, ready for another attempt.

Jack turned back to the screen, hands steady now, his face lit by that soft, patient glow of purpose reborn.

Jack: “Alright then. Let’s start again. One more scene.”

Jeeny: smiling “See? Experience already working.”

Host: The camera pulled back slowly, revealing the two of them — creators, learners, imperfect dreamers — framed by the light of another beginning.

And as the scene faded into the soft hum of the night, Andy Lau’s words whispered through the air like a quiet mantra for every soul learning through effort:

That doing is the path to knowing.
That experience is not the end,
but the rhythm between attempts.

And that, with every try,
we move closer — not to perfection —
but to the quiet, steady grace
of choosing the right thing next time.