Writing Wednesdays
Depth of Commitment, Part Two
By Steven Pressfield | Published: December 19, 2012
We were talking last week about depth of commitment. I was saying that the main difference between an amateur and a pro is their depth of commitment. The amateur’s commitment is shallow. The professional’s is deep.
Lebron took his game to the next level
The question then becomes: Can depth of commitment be increased? Can we move from shallow to deep?
My answer is an emphatic yes.
If fact I believe that’s how we all learn. That’s what improvement is. It’s not only an increase in skill or knowledge. It’s a deepening of commitment.
I have a friend at the gym named Craig. He’s not a gigantic bodybuilder, just a regular athletic guy. He told me the following story:
See that machine there, the iso-lateral arm press? I’ve been stuck at 110 for weeks. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t lift more than 110 pounds.
Then one morning I happen to glance over just as that tiny blonde, Jeannie—you know the one I’m talking about: 5′4″, 140 pounds?—heads over to that machine. I watch her slap a 45-pound plate and a 25-pounder onto each side, 140 total. She sits down and bangs out three sets like there’s nothing to it.
I said, Are you kidding me? I was blushing. I’m not kidding. My heart stopped. I thought, How can this little girl, who is seven inches shorter than me and sixty pounds lighter, make me look like an absolute punk?
I asked Craig how much weight he was doing on that machine now.
One-fifty, man. Took me a few weeks but I got it. All because of that cute little Jeannie. After watching her, I said to myself, “I will burst a blood vessel, I will pass out, I will make my heart explode … but I will get that weight up!”
That’s called increasing your depth of commitment.
I’ve thought about it a lot. There seem to be several stages to the process.
The first is shame.
We fail at some endeavor and we feel terrible about ourselves.
Shame leads to self-respect.
Our toes touch bottom. We say, “I know I can do better. I cannot accept defeat in this endeavor.”
With that, our depth of commitment increases.
We resolve to overcome. We make up our minds. We gird our loins.
My first real job was as a junior copywriter at an ad agency in New York called Benton & Bowles. My boss was a very smart, very ambitious guy named Ed Hannibal. One day Ed quit. He was going to write a novel. Sure enough, he did—and it was a hit.
The book was called Chocolate Days, Popsicle Weeks and it was a real-deal success, not just critically but commercially.
I was twenty-two years old. I thought, “Hell, if Ed can do it, I can do it.” So I quit too.
Cut to seven years later. I’m dragging myself out of divorce, poverty, despair, blah blah etc., thinking, “Am I ready to try to try this same stunt again?”
I was. But the difference, this second time, was depth of commitment. The first time around, I thought writing a novel would be easy. The second time I am suitably chastened. I have had my butt handed to me and I know now, a little at least, how hard the job is and how much it is going to demand of me.
I finished that second novel (unlike the first), but I couldn’t find a publisher. Two years later: try again? Okay, but now with even greater depth of commitment.
That one flops too. Try again? Okay, now even deeper.
In a way, failure is fuel for depth of commitment. It raises the stakes. When our history is constituted entirely of Failure #1, Failure #2, and Failure #3, what else can we say to ourselves except, “I will burst a blood vessel, I will pass out, will make my heart explode … but I will NOT crap out a fourth time!”
What we’re really talking about here is cluenessness.
I was just plain dumb. Most of us are. We have no idea how hard things are. We think we’re bulletproof, we believe we’re invincible.
I think about Lebron James and how bad he felt, after all that “taking my talents to South Beach” stuff, when he and the Miami Heat flamed out in their first try at an NBA title with Lebron on the team. Next year they won. Why?
Depth of commitment.
Lebron went back to the drawing board. He looked in the mirror and realized that what he thought was good enough, wasn’t. He had to take his game to the next level, and he did.
Depth of commitment can be learned.
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Thanks, just what I needed right this minute.
Thank you so much for this. I’ve been wavering in my commitment and playing at writing where once it was all I wanted. I haven’t made any progress with my novel- and now I understand why.
You are the human equivalent to Yoda.
You impart the right wisdom at the right time.
And just as LaVonne said above, I often feel it’s just what I need to hear at this very minute.
That happens more often than not when I read your stuff.
Thanks for this blog, your books and all you do.
This is commitment:
http://videosift.com/video/Passing-Japan-s-Hardest-Test
Thank you for this. I wish I had already read this two years ago when I was an absolute beginning painter and so ashamed of my efforts. Steven, your writing has been one of my greatest sources of encouragement to keep on working and think like a pro even when I wanted to yell and scream and smash my canvases!
Steven,
You mentioned “cluelessness.” Gerald Graff wrote a wonderful book called “Clueless in Academe” which discusses the role of cluelessness in learning. It’s sort of like cholesterol. There’s good cluelessness – coming to a subject – or skill – not knowing what we don’t know, realizing we don’t know, and muddling through to skill and competence – through, as you say, deeper commitment. (The bad cluelessness refuses to recognize itself.) As a parent (and grandparent), your post also reminds me of the Love & Logic approach: consequences with empathy. Letting children fail at small, manageable tasks, learn the consequences and grow (stronger and better). Isn’t revision a matter of cluelessness and commitment? As always, thanks!
Thank you!
Currently floundering in revision and it’s been like pulling my toenails out slowly to sit down and work at it everyday…where the first draft was a fun ride. With the first draft, I thought…”Oh my God, I’m writing!!” With this second…it’s like. This is horrible! Hard, I suck! This isn’t any fun, and I must NOT be a writer, because I’m not having fun!! I still write everyday on this second draft, because I will not allow my dream, my passion to die. Nobody said it would be easy, if it was (as the old saying goes) everyone would do it. And the fact is, that everyone DOES NOT do it!…but I have. I can’t give up my commitment!
I agree with David!
Actually all writers are children moving to a deeper level of commitment. We seem to learn that only with the hard way though.
well what can i say? it is hard hard hard. how do we “just do it” when we have mouths to feed? but we must. we must plan and do and fail and do again. we must get up earlier, stay up later, eliminate more until we find the nugget and hold fast. nothing is more important. perserverance, tenacity, morality, hope. they are all giants in this field of endeavor. and what is this endeavor? it is all, it is the holy grail. it is movement into darkness and trust. spooky stuff, but oh what a payoff. THE payoff. might not make you rich in cash but surely in humanity. all this is known and still we, amazingly, are checked at the door to it all more often than not. you’re a wise one. why? because you coach us along, all the while, living it yourself. quite a mentor, steve.
thanks so much.
har
Steven,
I always enjoy your posts, this one included. But your claim that amateurs have a shallow level of commitment; professionals a deep one is on shaky ground. Just one example: 1980 Olympic hockey semifinal between the professional Russians and a bunch of American college kids. Level of commitment and professionalism do not necessarily go-hand-in-hand.