I read Daniel Coyle’s The Talent Code the first week of 2010, and I still think about the premise at least, oh, every single day. Hands down the most influential businessey read of my year.
Not to build it up or anything.
Premise: Remarkable talent is possible for all of us. That means you. And me. Seriously. Genius isn’t native or innate, but instead within our reach. We can develop talent through deep practice.
Deep practice is a specific way of engagement — a method of concentration and effort in which you’re intensely focused on doing something as perfectly as possible in order to create pathways in your brain that favor exquisitely crafted skill, and eventually grow talent.
Of course it’s inspiring to learn that, if we’re willing to put in time and effort, it’s possible to become incredibly talented at something that we’re passionate about.
But more important for my own spark of inspiration is the knowledge that deep practice involves dwelling at your edge. Attaining mastery requires concentrating intently on your mistakes in order to adjust course. Focusing on flaws is (for me at least) almost always inherently uncomfortable.
And that’s okay. The mistakes and accompanying discomfort are expected and required.
My perfectionistic self finds so much freedom in this understanding. What a lovely offering of permission — to really and truly bomb, fail, and suck throughout the creative process.
I think of all those writers who find the experience of writing to be excruciating, but still can’t stop themselves. That stinging discomfort mingled with satisfaction sings of deep practice.
And Coyle clearly illuminates this highly technical, biological process of talent acquisition without oversimplifying or sacrificing meaning. For example, by the end of the book you’re able to make sense of this oft-repeated phrase as if you were fluent in neuroscience-speak:
Skill is insulation (myelin) that wraps neural circuits and grows according to certain signals.
And, you will be psyched to get your myelin wrapping circuits like a Christmas-present-wrapping Elf on speed.
(As a Shiva Nata junkie, my mouth waters at all this talk of neural circuitry, at discovering further proof that our patterns are generously flexible, and the implications for changing habits.)
Coyle describes concrete, actionable steps in the acquisition of talent, and the conditions that allow greatness to thrive in talent hotbeds like Brazil for soccer players and Renaissance Italy for painters.
And he explains the process of ignition – how we’re sparked by motivation that makes us so hungry to master a skill that we’re willing to subject ourselves to this occasionally awkward deep practice.
And woven throughout the book are compelling stories of toil and triumph so inherently motivational that there’s no need for excess sentimentality – Coyle inspires without becoming gushy or annoying.
This book honestly makes you want to go out and suck at something. Something that, more than anything, you’re desperate to master.
Then, last night, I read this bit from Julia Child’s My Life In France, of her experience learning to cook:
Of course, I made many boo-boos. At first this broke my heart, but then I came to understand that learning how to fix one’s mistakes, or live with them, was an important part of becoming a cook. I was beginning to feel la cuisine bourgeoise in my hands, my stomach, my soul.
Spoken like a revelation: Deep practice, all the way.
Have you read anything fantastic lately? What can I add to my towering stack of books?
{ 6 comments… read them below or add one }
Awesome post – I keep talking about hearing Rick Bayless (the winner of Top Chef Masters) say it took him 20 years (!) to learn how to make his mole sauce correctly. We tend to think of “masters” as always having been masters because we didn’t know them until they reached that point. But they all started out putting their pants on one leg at a time. Or something like that. The point is they started out sucking at something and worked (and sucked some more and worked some more) until they were good at it. Somehow this is so motivational to me.
Just read The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind by William Kamkwamba and Bryan Mealer about William’s childhood in Mali, Africa and how he built a windmill from parts he scrounged at a junk yard and around his village. Rocky at the beginning but well worth pushing through to the end! Really moving story (but it will probably make you feel like a slacker because you haven’t built a windmill and you’re older than 16).
let’s start with how great it “my life in france”???? o.m.g.
i just finished seth godin’s tribes. loved it.
right now i’m reading “finding your inner mama : women reflect on the challenges and rewards of motherhood” edited by Eden Steinberg.
ps – there is a deep irony in my life that i hate the learning process.
pps – i’m a teacher.
ok, hate is a strong word.
have a serious distaste for is probably more accurate.
can’t we just be good at stuff?
I just read it. ‘Twas really good. It reminded me of Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers, which was my favorite of his books so far. It also explains how I finally really got the Horizontals – because that is how I was practicing them when it finally all connected.
I totally loved The Talent Code too – it helped me to calibrate that space of deep practice so I can recognise it and nurture it now.
I recognised a lot of that space from Shiva Nata, by the way, especially the way Havi gets you to practice it.
Thanks for the recommendations, guys!
@Jessica – I’m with you – not sure why this is so motivation, but it totally lights a fire under me.
@Tami – OMG, I am *savoring* My Life In France. Which is maybe fitting, and exactly how Julia would want it.
@Elizabeth – I think that’s the only Malcolm Gladwell book I haven’t read, definitely need to now.
@Andrew – I still don’t think I’ve calibrated that deep practice feeling, but you’re inspiring me!