The Value of Consistent Hard Work

I was listening to a podcast from The New Yorker, one featuring Robert Mankoff, the editor of the magazine’s brilliant cartoon section. Mankoff was describing The New Yorker’s weekly caption contest where the magazine invites readers to, well, find out just how unfunny they really are, and how difficult it is to be a cartoonist. He was also introducing a new feature where readers could create their own cartoon on-line. (You, too, can prove that it’s really, really hard to be funny here, and find the podcast here.)

At one point Mankoff spoke with Zachary Kanin, one of the magazine’s small stable of regular cartoonist (or, as it turns out, stable of regular small cartoonists). Kanin was discussing his typical work-week, and his comments caught me by surprise when he said he draws ten to fifteen cartoons a week. I would have figured, what, three? Five in a good week? But, no, every week Kanin hammers out 10 to 15 new cartoons. He said it’s important to work at that pace because it’s the only way he really stopped doing other people’s cartoons, the only way he really found his own voice. (The only way, I suspect, he can make a living, too. You get the feeling from the podcast that Mankoff is pretty demanding, and cartooning is pretty competitive.)

Alas. Another seemingly fun, carefree career—draw a little, lay in the sun, draw a little, go to the pool, draw a little, have some wine before dinner-- that turns out to be really hard work. Get up early and sweat it out, every day. Consistent hard work. The only way to get good and be good and stay good.

Later, in another podcast interview, I heard Dan Brown (of Da Vinci Code and Lost Symbol fame) say he writes every day, 365 days a year, including Christmas Day.

One of the best examples of disciplined, consistent, hard work I have seen recently was Jeff Kennedy’s terrific, Drawing Flies 365 blog. Every single day in 2008 Jeff created and posted a fly, explaining:

I initiated the creation of this blog as a challenge. The challenge is to draw a fly a day for an entire year. Part of the challenge is the discipline to accomplish this every day and the other is to expand my creativity and to help find my artistic voice. The sky is the limit on how the flies will be created. You may have wondered, "why is he drawing flies?" My other hobby is fly fishing and fly tying. I also welcome the challenge of drawing the natural materials that are used in the flies. So hang on and enjoy the ride for the next 365 days!

It became a very pleasant ritual to get up every morning and check out Jeff’s latest creation. Jeff took this project seriously, worked hard at perfecting his technique, and will soon publish a book highlighting his creations.

Last Sunday our oldest daughter wrote about 1,200 words, the start of her efforts in this year’s National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write a 50,000-word novel in the month of November. This is her third year and she is one-for-two, having completed all 50,000 words last year and falling just shy in her first try. For her, this means writing every day, often late at night after extracurricular activities and homework is done.

This also means consistent hard work. When I asked her why she was doing it she said, “Dad, I’m happy every day that I write.” (My response: “Whoa.”)

This idea of really loving something but working at it hard enough every day that it’s a little bit painful is part of a ritual that talented, driven people all seem to understand and embrace.

People like Haruki Murakami, who wrote about his efforts in What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. If you’ve read the book, you know Murakami is brilliant at taking adversity and turning it to his advantage. In this case, he was reflecting on how difficult it is for him to write novels.

Writers who are blessed with inborn talent can freely write novels no matter what they do—or don’t do. Like water from a natural spring, the sentences just well up, and with little or no effort these writers can complete a work. Occasionally you’ll find someone like that, but, unfortunately, that category wouldn’t include me. I haven’t spotted any springs nearby. I have to pound the rock with a chisel and dig out a deep hole before I can locate the source of creativity. To write a novel I have to drive myself hard physically and use a lot of time and effort. Every time I begin a new novel, I have to dredge out another new, deep hole.

Then, of course, Murakami embraces the process, the consistent hard work, saying that when “naturals’ suddenly find their spring has run dry, they are in trouble. But when he notices one water source is drying up, he can simply move on and chisel out the next hole from rock.

Kanin, Brown, Kennedy, Murakami are all committed artists, but I don’t think it’s all that different in any other endeavor.

Want to be great at something? The rock is everywhere. Just get your hammer and chisel out and start pounding.

Posted by Entrepreneur Generations