Learning To Drum
Last fall I read a book called Talent is Overrated and got really excited about the idea of deliberate practice. I dreamed of becoming a world-class product creator, and pictured myself staying up night after night, slowly inching my way towards 10,000 hours. I’d dutifully work on the fundamentals, each design better than the last.
A year later, I’m realizing that I never really grasped deliberate practice. I fell in love with the idea of it, but I never actually experienced it - until recently.
There’s an old electric drum set in the attic of our house. One day this fall, I decided to start messing around on it. I didn’t take it seriously, and I certainly wasn’t trying to become a real drummer. I just liked the stress relief. Nothing feels better than playing along with The Blue Album and drinking a beer after a long day of work.
But after a week of messing around, I got tired of being a sloppy drummer. It feels best when you’re pushing the edge of your abilities but playing well. It sounds corny, but you get totally absorbed in the song, and in a way become one with it. And it feels amazing.
Obviously, there’s a catch. You can’t get in the zone on command. It takes deliberate practice. From time to time, you have to double-down and focus on one limb at a time. I’ll practice a kick drum pattern for half an hour, and try to focus 100% of my attention on every nuance of the sound, and the feeling of my right foot pressing the pedal. When you really focus, you start to get better because you hear more and feel more. The key to creating a beautiful sound is eliminating all the awkward imperfections that we naturally start with until nothing is left that doesn’t belong.
This state of total absorption, of gradually focusing more and more, of creating new neural connections - this is deliberate practice. It’s why the best designers obsess over the details. They’re pouring their entire consciousness, their entire being into the smallest detail, smoothing away all imperfections. It’s why the best writers spend weeks searching for the perfect verb to give their sentence life.
And I must say, it feels amazing. Attaining a pure focus is it’s own reward.
So now, when I sit down to work, I take a minute to eliminate distractions and prepare my mind. I clear the space so I can get into the deep focus. I intentionally stretch myself in my weak zones. And now my practice is much more deliberate than before.
All because of that old drum set in our attic.
