People Who Get The Most Out of Their Talent are able to not let losses and mistakes affect their performance.

I hate the way I feel when Andrew tells me that I won't amount anything, because I know he's right. In this case, it was being told not to bother applying to Kingston University by Andrew, my Art & Design foundation tutor, because I wasn't good enough to get in. He wasn't wrong. I had spent the first half of my foundation degree drinking cans of Fosters, playing GoldenEye on my N64 and getting on first-name terms at the local McDonald's.

I had grown an afro, put on two extra stones, and was dangerously close to throwing away my design career. "You're talented, but you're not trying. I mean, look, the glue in your sketchbook is still wet." I'd been rumbled.

I'd managed to 'create' 6 months of sketchbook work in 6 hours the night before, and it showed. Despite putting the sketchbook on my radiator to dry, it was still wet. "You do know that the application rate for Kingston is 84 to 1? There's no point applying; I'll tell you now that you won't get in with this work." His words really stung. Actually, they didn't sting. They cut deep and were extremely painful.

But he was right, and I'm thankful for his brutal honesty. That was a huge turning point in my career and galvanised me physically and mentally. It was like a scene out of Rocky, but swap Philadelphia for Falmouth. I cut my hair, began working out and replaced Goldeneye with graft.

Cut to the September following this pivotal meeting, I was beginning my Graphic Design Degree at Kingston University. I couldn't thank him enough for being honest with me and saving me from well, myself.

This wasn't the first or last time I'd receive criticism or setbacks, but it shaped how I saw them. We've all had negative feedback on a project and it's awful. Hours of slaving over a design dismissed with a subjective shrug and 'I just don't like it' from a client. But that's not what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about moments when we are vulnerable, where we ventured out of our comfort zone to try something new or go after something out of our reach. It's in those moments we are at our most exposed. When we put ourselves forward for a new opportunity like a job or promotion, we become a sitting target for critics, our true ambitions revealed.

But it's in these moments we have the chance to leave the critics behind, escape the proverbial bucket of crabs and move on to something bigger and better. But what happens if that doesn't happen? Imagine a scenario where you have been working hard on your portfolio in the evenings and weekends so you can finally break free of your draining in-house job.

To be braver than those who've been stuck in the same job for over a decade and finally take the leap into freelancing fulltime. But the client who had promised you work has had a change of plan, and the project is now on hold. You scramble for work but nothing is landing. Networking is exhausting and posting all day on LinkedIn is resulting in nothing. It's with dread that you compose an email begging for your old job back, and we have to return to where we were before with our tail between our legs.

Beyond our talent for design, this now becomes a mental game. It is being able to not only handle the disappointment but also not let it start a negative spiral that sets us back weeks, even months. This is a far more common scenario in the realm of sports, and it's only when I went into football coaching that I fully appreciated the importance of mental resilience.

Phil Mickelson has played golf and spent time with a long list of people who are considered among the best at what they do—Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, Tom Brady, and Steph Curry, to name a few. He was asked if there's one intangible elite performers have in common. "The biggest difference," he said, "between people who get the most out of their talent and those who don't is the ability to retake control of your thoughts, to quickly turn it around when things start going bad."

You can tell who does and who doesn't have this ability when things start going bad, he said. When a golfer hits a few errant shots in a row. When a 3-point shooter misses half a dozen shots in a row. When a quarterback throws interceptions on back-to-back possessions. When a salesperson gets rejection after rejection after rejection. When a songwriter has a bad day in the studio. "When things start going bad in a round of golf," for instance, Phil continues, "the great players have the ability to retake control of their thoughts, to refocus on what they want to have happen, on where they want the ball to go.

When things start going bad, they have the ability to quickly turn it around." The greats, in other words, are mentally fit. They recover faster than those who don't get the most out of their talent.

And it's this quality that I want to help you develop in you by reframing how we see and accept criticism and setbacks. So we feel confident taking risks and chances that move us closer to our dream career. We have to start by accepting that setbacks are part of it and are normal, and it's actually success that's not normal.

Society romanticises success, but it ignores the less glamourous failures, sacrifices and grind that went on behind the scenes that made the success possible. The truth is that we learn far more through failure, not success.

But we will never move forward if we can't get past these setbacks. The time dwelling on it can't be brought back, and we are robbing from ourselves twice over.

It's about reframing our setbacks as a sign that we aren't ready yet and that they are trying to help teach us how to improve so we can attain our dreams sooner. I'd go even further and suggest that our critics are there to spur us to greatness. To help motivate us to raise our standards. They hold us accountable.

Without them, we will just settle for good enough and we all know that according to John D Rockerfeller that 'good is the enemy of great'. Without my Falmouth tutor telling me I wasn't good enough to get into Kingston, I wouldn't have gotten into Kingston.

Without months of tough portfolio reviews, we'd never had got a job at top ad agency Leo Burnett London. Without our Creative Director criticising our scripts, we'd never have created TV ads for Nintendo, Daz and Kellogg's that we were proud of. But this theme transcends sport, design and advertising.

Jerry Seinfeld started performing stand-up comedy in 1976. Since then and to this day, every day he sits with a yellow legal pad and writes jokes. Given that he's been honing his craft for 47 years, he was asked, "How do you know a joke is going to work on stage?" Seinfeld said, "You don't." "You just trust yourself?" the interviewer asked. "No you don't," Seinfeld said. "There's no trust. It's excruciating—8 or 9 times out of 10, it doesn't work."

The interviewer said that he had recently seen Seinfeld perform at The Beacon Theatre in New York City, where Seinfeld seemed to get nothing but laughs. "What you saw is what's worked," Seinfeld said. "But you only saw 1.5% of what I've tried." And even with what's worked, every time he steps on stage, "it's slightly terrorising."

Rarer than comedic talent, Seinfeld adds, is the ability to handle that terror. "A lot of people can be funny, a lot of people can write jokes, but not a lot of people can handle that daily slight terror." Kevin Hart has his own 'Shoulder Shrug' technique that he uses to get over things that don't work out. In this mandatory introduction to his book I Can't Make This Up, Hart introduces three words to readers that he explains are essential for understanding the lessons he teaches in the book. They are as follows: Huh? What? Okay.

"Huh?" is the first word. It's said quickly and sharply as if someone just punched you in the gut. It's usually said with your neck drawn back, eyebrows raised, and a quick survey of the room to make sure everything looks normal and you're not dreaming. It's when you go, "Did you just say what I think you said? I'm going to have to ask you to repeat it because it literally makes no sense to me and my mind can't process it right now."

"What?" is the second word. This is pronounced with a silent t, and it usually follows a Huh by a few seconds. It's said with your mouth distorted in distaste and your brow wrinkled, while staring at someone as if they're insane. It means, "What the hell did you just say? Because I just asked you to repeat the insane nonsense you just said, and now you're adding even more insane nonsense on top of that. My ears can't believe what they are hearing right now."

"Okay" is the third word. It's said with a shoulder shrug, a shaking of the head from side to side, and a roll of the eyes. It's what you say when a Huh and a What haven't gotten you anywhere and you're beginning to believe you're trapped in a dream. It indicates, "I can't even begin to fathom your reality, but I've decided to just accept it and move on."

In life, you can choose to cry about the nonsense that occurs to you, or you can choose to laugh about it. After all, you have no control over what happened to you, but you do have control over how you interpret it. Setbacks and criticism can't be avoided, but it's the fastest way to greatness and I believe is far more helpful than praise. What matters is how we respond to it, our ability to recover from it, use it as fuel, and move on.

Heroes and villains always have the same backstory—pain. The difference is what they choose to do about it. The villain says "the world hurt me, I'll hurt it back" Hero says "the world hurt me, I'm not gonna let it hurt anyone else." Heroes use pain. Villains are used by it. - Alexi Hormozi

My approach to receiving and responding to criticsm over the years has evolved. Whether it was working in Advertising Agencies, Football Academies or Hotels, the same principles and framework have helped me, and so I wanted to share that with you to help you do the same.

The framework I use:

• Recognise the situation and what has happened
• Reframe it as an opportunity to turn things around
• React in a way that takes you closer to your goals

1. Recognise the situation and what has happened

In every designer's journey, there are moments that feel like a stumble. It's easy to get lost in the whirl of colors and lines, in the critiques that feel more personal than professional. But here's where the art of pausing comes in. Take a step back. See your design - and the situation - from a distance. Ask yourself, "What's really happening here?" Is it a clash of visions, a miscommunication, or perhaps, a hidden lesson in disguise? Understand it, own it. It's the first step in turning the page.

2. Reframe it as an opportunity to turn things around

In every setback, there's a hidden track leading to new possibilities. It's about flipping the script. That rejected logo? It's not just a 'no', but a nudge towards something better. Maybe it's an invitation to delve deeper into your creative well, to redefine what your design stands for. Ask, "How can this make my work stronger?" Remember, every great design story has its twists. Yours is no different.

3. React in a way that takes to closer to your goals

This is where you harness the power of a positive reaction. It's not about ignoring the sting of the setback — no, it's about acknowledging it, then choosing to step beyond it. Ask yourself, "How can I use this moment to propel me forward?"

Remember, in every designer's life, there will be critics, there will be naysayers. But each step you take away from the storm, each positive action, is a declaration of your strength, a testament to your commitment to your craft and your journey. In this choice lies your power: to turn away from the shadows of doubt, to move steadfastly towards your dreams. Your reaction becomes your reality. Make it one that leads you to brighter, bolder horizons.