Remember that whole “10,000 hours” thing from Malcolm Gladwell’s book, the Tipping Point? The gist of the concept was that it takes about 10,000 hours of practice to master something. Want to be a world class athlete? 10,000 hours. Chess grand master? Practice for 10,000 hours.
Cool concept, right? Except that it turns out that he was wrong.
Well, not entirely wrong. It does take a shitload of practice in order to get to a mastery level of anything. But it’s not the sort of practice that most of us do in our lives. Not just “sit down and strum the guitar” kind of music-making. Or the “just shoot some baskets” kind of basketball.
The 10,000 hours concept was actually taken from the research of psychologist and researcher Eric Andersson (amongst other big names in the field). And in his new book, Peak, he explains that 10,000 hours is really arbitrary; to become a grand master of chess would require a lot more, for instance. But that’s not Gladwell’s biggest failing. It’s that he really didn’t explain that it isn’t just about the number of hours.
Becoming super awesome at something requires deliberate practice, which is something entirely different from just spending time mindlessly practicing. Basically, the concept of deliberate practice means:
- You work with a coach on your own (not in a group setting), usually for about an hour every week – potentially much more in the beginning. (YAY for coaches!)
- You practice deliberately for about an hour every day, seeking out your mistakes and correcting them
- You look to see how those who have mastered the game or skill are already doing it, and then look to see where your actions didn’t follow theirs
- You create mental representations (like puzzle pieces) that allow you to break down and then put back together the various steps to mastery
- You maintain intense focus while practicing (usually people engaged in this kind of practice sleep a lot. A lot.)
But aren’t those grand masters and amazing athletes just naturally talented?
One of the core messages from this book is the debunking of the myth around natural talent. It turns out that for every “prodigy” and “child genius” out there, there are hours and hours of deliberate practice behind them. He even debunks Mozart’s story and the more recent talents of high jumper Donald Thomas. Yes, in terms of athletics, certain height and body shapes lend themselves to certain sports, but even there, deliberate practice is what separates the truly amazing from anyone else around them.
Yep – deliberate practice. (Even if they didn’t know the concept of it, that’s what they were doing to get there.)
Depressing news, or helpful?
It might seem to depressing to think that it would take us a lot of time in order to become the best at something, and that might hold us back from even trying. But Ericsson also tells us (with his detailed research) that we can improve a lot with just a few hundred hours. He gives examples of an eighty year old man who chose to go out and get a black belt and used deliberate practice to do it. Or the paunchy middle-aged man who decided (with no golf experience at all) to get on the PGA tour.
This research gives us all permission to go out and get better at something, no matter how late we started in life or what that field is.
But why would I want to be the best?
What Ericsson doesn’t speak to very much, and what fascinates me the most, is why certain people accept the challenge and strive to be the best in their field, whatever that field is. Because it takes a lot of dedication to sit down for an hour every day at the piano. Or the blank screen. Or the ballfield.
And do you even want to be the best? The best parent you can be? The best salesperson, the best account manager, the best writer, friend, lover?
Are you aspiring to be slightly better than “crappy”?
His research really challenged me to think about how I’ve been relating to my work. I realized that I had never said to myself that I wanted to be the best writer (of historical fantasy with strong romantic elements – yes, that’s a genre) out there. Instead, I had said to myself “Well, there’s a lot of crappy writing out there, and I know I can do better than that.” What? I’m aspiring to being slightly better than crappy?
And I’ll bet that I’m not alone in that aspiration. Most of us just want to get by, to be just “good enough”. We keep ourselves from pushing towards being the best because that feels too arrogant, and most of us (especially women) have been taught to be humble and to share the limelight. But really, a faster mile or a better chess game or a better anything pushes the others on the playing field to improve their game, too, bringing up the whole level of the sport or field. (Think of Tiger Woods and how he brought a whole new dimension to the game of golf.)
Are you scared to want more?
But I would also bet that beneath our unwillingness to push ourselves actually lies fear. We are scared to declare our intentions. Scared to put ourselves out there. Scared to try, to hope for better, to want more, to “dare greatly”. Because if we don’t state our intention to be bigger than we already are, then we can’t fail at it. Then no one can say “Well, would you look at her? She thinks she can be an artist. Just who does she think she is?”
But really, who’s out there saying that? Is it possible that it’s you? That it’s only the voice in your head speaking that little refrain? And if there is someone out there disparaging your dreams, whether that be your spouse, your mother, your high school boyfriend on Facebook that you can’t remember why you ever accepted his friend request (just as an example), well, even if they are, so what? There will always be someone out there who wants to pull you back down to “good enough”, because that’s where they are.
It’s up to you to want to be the best. It’s up to you to be the Serena Williams of your life. So go out there and practice deliberately, whatever you want to be.
And if you need a coach, you know where to find me.
