Malcolm Gladwell in his book Outliers, famously suggested that it takes 10,000 hours of deliberate practice to master a skill. Academics and philosophers alike have since had a field day debunking this hypothesis and offering hard data to prove it. But I really like Malcolm Gladwell and the way he thinks, and for the purposes of this article I'm going to assume he's right. Because if his hypothesis is true, then by extension there must be a magical number for how long it should take to, you know, just be good at something?
The reality for me is that I don't actually want to be performing at Albert Hall any time soon. I would however, like to bust out some Debussy at home on the piano to soothe my troubled mind. I may at some point like to attempt an impromptu performance in front of some good friends for a few raised eyebrows and a concessional nod or two. 'Huh! He's actually quite good' they would say, reaching for another cracker and some dip. How many hours would it take to pull that off do you think? 50 hours? 100? 1000?
If like me, you just want to be good at something, you'd probably want to know where to start. And if it is possible to speed up the process, you'd probably want to know that too right?
For the record I don't pretend to be an expert on anything really. But if there was one thing I might claim some level of competency at, it would probably be that I'm quite proficient at being good at stuff. Lots of stuff. Perhaps that makes me sound arrogant, but even my mum would admit I have a diverse skillset. "Just, pick something!!" she would say when referring to er, my whole life!
As Marcus Buckingham and his Gallup buddies informed me on my Strengthfinder test - my number one strength is 'Learner.' Apparently, as a Learner, I'm 'thrilled by the journey from ignorance to competence.'
Truth.
Obsessed With Learning
I tend to get quite obsessed by things that fascinate me. It might be a subject that interests me like Philosophy or Theology. It might be a new skill like riding a motorbike, learning card tricks and sleight of hand, getting my scuba ticket or piloting a drone. It might be understanding or performing new forms of creative expression that momentarily short-circuit my brain.
Like for example: when I listened to Jacob Collier describe Negative Harmony for the first time, my mind melted into little blobs of WTF that then joined together into one giant WTF. After a moment suspended in dumbfoundry (it's probably not a word but it should be), I became determined to understand the perpetual rollercoaster which is Jacob's brain. I've consumed hundreds of hours of YouTube content since, trying to learn everything I can about how this guy thinks about music. Another victim of alien abduction while I'm on the topic is Khatia Buniatishvili. I was mesmerised watching her play Claire de Lune during my "Learn a Debussy song on the piano" stage.
I watch videos, talk to people that know more about things than I do, and try to figure out if there's any chance I could wrap my hands or my head around those things well enough to at least end up in the same world - even if I was just a commoner and they were the King and Queen.
What Does it Mean to Be 'Good' at Something?
The word 'good' is quite subjective. When you ask your kids "How was school today?" and they say "Good," that means "ok, nothing much happened today, can I watch Paw Patrol please?" Then you have Biblical levels of good, like in Genesis 2, where God looked upon the entire cosmos that he had just made and said "That's Good." This article is not about unpacking biblical 'good'. It's much closer to the Paw Patrol end of the spectrum.
My fascination with getting to a certain level of 'good' is not limited to one thing. It spans a broad spectrum of the creative arts and beyond. From photography, painting and drawing, music production, mixing and mastering, songwriting, film and video or poetry and prose.
I've discovered all creative pursuits follow the same general projection: You want to do something for some reason. You find out how to do it. You practice. Over time you reach a certain level of competence. You create the thing you wanted to create – or some vague impression of said thing.
I'm not sure how long this process usually takes you, but I think as I get older, I've managed to make the journey from ignorance to competence shorter. I think you can too. Here are 5 things that are definitely essential parts of the puzzle.
1. Decide WHAT You Want to be Able to Do - And WHY.
Let's use my example of learning "Claire De Lune" by Debussy on Piano. I've always been a hack at the piano. Octaves on the left hand, triads on the right. By all accounts a 'hack.'
The first time I watched "Oceans 11" I was mesmerised by the closing scene where they all stood by that huge fountain in Vegas with Claire De Lune providing the feels as one by one they exited the scene. I fell in love with the song that day and thought – I'd love to be able to play that one day. Fast forward to 2020, and lockdown provided long, uninterrupted opportunities to make that a reality.
My WHAT: Learn Claire De Lune on the Piano
My WHY: Because I want to be able to play something really beautiful on Piano. Remember this 'why.' You'll need to come back to it every time you hit a hurdle and progress comes to a halt.
2. Take Advantage of the Inspo Wave.
When I get a rush of inspiration, I want to ride that sucker all the way to the shore.
I remember a few years back someone saying to me - "Hey remember when we used to say 'one day we'll do this or that'? Well guess what? You're 40. It's 'One Day!' If you don't do it now, it's never going to happen." So now, when I get that initial wave of inspiration, I jump on it. I used to let it simmer. Now I don't. I can't afford to.
3. Monkey See Monkey Do - The Best Way to Learn.
I learn by watching and listening. YouTube must be the single greatest service for the dissemination of knowledge and the equipping of a generation with teaching and training for almost any pursuit imaginable. I tried reading the sheet music for Claire De Lune. My pace was painfully slow, because my ability to sight read sucked. And my goal wasn't to learn to sight read. It was to learn to play the song. This is important. Don't get derailed by learning stuff you don't have to know to get you to your goal.
Thanks to YouTube and a 55 minute birds eye view tutorial, with every part demonstrated and slowed down, I was playing more after 2 hours of watching someone else do it than 2 days of trying to make sense of dots and circles arranged into bars of 9/8.
I now know that I learn best by watching, and copying. How do you learn best? Do that.
4. Perfect Practice Makes Perfect.
You've probably heard the phrase "practice makes perfect." But as Vince Lombardi once pointed out, that's simply not true. You'll only get better by practicing the right things.
What I have discovered is that some things come easy, and some things are super hard. I would often practice the easy bits over and over because this made me feel a sense of progress. Then I would just trip over the hard bits, and start back again on the easy bits. Note to self: spend your time practicing the hard bits, not the easy bits.
Also - don't speed up too fast. When you practice something hard and try to speed up too quickly, you are quite literally teaching your muscles to remember your mistakes. Teach your muscles to do things correctly from the start. Speeding up will be easier after that.
I had a business mentor from Singapore once say to me "Slow is Fast Craig! Slow is Fast." I get it now.
5. Repetition
If I'm learning something new, I will go back to it any time I have a spare moment. Whether I'm learning an instrument or a new song on that instrument, or a new piece of software, or writing a song or working with a new piece of tech. If I'm not actively doing something else - I'm practicing. Repeating things over and over again. It probably drives the family crazy. But repetition is the single fastest way to learn. Do it. Then do it again. Then do that again. Slowly and correctly. Over and over and over again.
In the 6 months of Covid lockdown I managed to competently play about 70% of Claire De Lune. After that, we moved States and our piano couldn't come with us. But that's not bad for someone who couldn't play much more than Heart and Soul before I started.
I'm happy not being the best. I'm happy being good. I'm often thrilled by the journey from ignorance to competence and I'm slowly learning how to take that journey quicker and more effectively. It's actually great being good. I'm sure the experts would disagree, but that's ok - I've got an extra 9,000 hours up my sleeve.
This article was originally published on Medium.