The curtain rises on a moment that many invisible hours have prepared.

What an audience sees is the thin, visible end of a great deal of unseen work. Rehearsals, fittings, repairs, cues and hundreds of small decisions were all made so that a few minutes can appear to be happening naturally. The finished thing is designed to hide its own making, which is both its craft and the reason the credit lands unevenly.

Whenever something goes smoothly this week, try to name two or three preparations that must have happened first. It is a habit that changes how you judge other people’s apparent ease, including your own.