Months of squeaky practice behind a closed bedroom door teach a humility most people skip. Stick with the squeaks.

Being plainly bad at something for months, where everyone in the house can hear it, teaches a particular kind of patience. You cannot pretend you are further along than you are, and there is no point at which it suddenly sounds good. Most people skip that stretch by only doing what they are already decent at.

Measure weeks rather than quality while you are in it, since quality moves too slowly to encourage anybody. Fifteen minutes today, logged, counts as a win whatever it sounded like. The squeaks are not failure, they are the sound of the first part of learning anything.