Practice Makes Perfect . . . or The 10,000-Hour Rule

It’s become a popular belief that it takes a person 10,000 hours of practice to master a particular craft or skill.

      The concept of the 10,000-hour rule is derived from the work of psychologist K. Anders Ericsson, who studied the way people become experts in their field. Author Malcolm Gladwell brought the idea into the mainstream in his book “Outliers.”

      Regardless of where the belief originated, it holds merit. Though there are exceptions–unless you’re inherently talented, no amount of guitar practice will blossom you into the next Jimi Hendrix–the 10,000-hour rule is a great place to start if you wish to master anything.

      Especially writing.

      Practice doesn’t just make perfect, it also makes masters. But it doesn’t guarantee them.

      Case in point: I spent the majority of my teenage years as a musician. I was talented and I was dedicated. Not just fascination but obsession. I spent countless hours every single day seven days a week three-hundred sixty-five days a year playing music not because I had to but because I wanted to. I loved music because music was my ruling passion. There wasn’t an instrument you could put into my hands that I didn’t know how to play or couldn’t figure out within a few minutes of toying. Guitar, drums, harmonica, piano, violin . . . you name it and I could play it. After several of those years I could listen to any song and within less than one minute mimic finger-blurring guitar licks like I wrote them myself.

      But I didn’t write them myself.

      And that’s the difference.

      And that’s also why my music “career” floundered into obscurity after having a few songs played on the local radio. Because I wasn’t Jimi Hendrix and no amount of practice would make me Jimi Hendrix.

      Close but no cigar.

      Sometimes you have to learn to give up on your dreams in order for others to blossom.

      And for me they did.

      The first “real thing” I wanted to be growing up was a Writer. Well, actually I wanted to be an Adventurer like Indiana Jones until about age 8, but that proved to be an illogical “career” choice which earned me many scrapes and bruises while also getting me into a lot of trouble. At age 9 I decided I loved making up stories. I loved everything about their creation because I was the one creating them. I populated my fantasy worlds with whomever and whatever I could imagine, and I was the one who decided what happened when, to whom and why.

      I WAS GOD!!!

      Usually they ended in a bloody mess of strewn corpses with the killer getting away because I was allowed to watch anything as a kid and my preferred choice of movies was anything Jason, Freddy, and Michael Myers. But my horizons broadened soon enough as I grew older and discovered comic books then novels. And from there I’ve been writing ever since . . . though I sidetracked for many of my teenage years from writing stories into writing music, but if you’re a songwriter then you already know both arts are two sides of the same musing coin.

But let’s get back to the 10,000-hour rule, shall we? And we’ll break it down into smaller chunks, too, because that’s how I prefer to approach things: with a divide & conquer strategy.

      10 hours to become Familiar.

      100 hours to become Proficient.

      1,000 hours to become Good.

      10,000 hours to become an Expert.

And these hours aren’t spent just sitting there doodling or mindlessly strumming or whatever. They are supposed to be productive hours spent actually practicing the skill of your choosing.

      I point that last out because I used to write sporadically. Whenever my muse struck me because I was an artist and damn it my stories were emotional masterpieces poured onto the page through words.

      Then I grew up, stopped being a pretentious douchebag and started a daily writing habit.

      That was ten years ago and it proved the best decision I ever made.

      I don’t have a specific number of hours per day that I write, but I do write for at least a few hours every single day, no excuses and no days off. Not only has my writing improved 10,000% but I have already clocked in those 10,000 necessary hours and then some (not including the 20 years of sporadic writing before, which I don’t; I’m 39 years old as I write this).

      Such dedication has afforded me several things: One, since my writing is constantly improving on the daily I’ve become much more aware of my mistakes while writing and thus make far less of them which makes editing all the easier. And Two, I now read the work of others with an unyielding eye of scrutiny which allows me to learn while reading what not to do in my own writing.

      Oh, and Three . . . my average daily word count is 5,000 words. Sometimes less if I’m rewriting scenes, ofttimes more if I’m writing new ones.

      Not all 5,000 of those words are keepers, mind, but that sure goes a long way when trying to finish your next big novel.

      Point being?

      My years spent as a failed musician taught me two things: perseverance, and an appreciation for the journey regardless its end.

      Some things in life are worth pursuing even if you’ll never master them. Because they’re fun. Because they give you that “butterfly flutter” feeling in your guts. Because they’re what you think of at night while dozing off to sleep and are the first things popping into your mind upon waking for the day.

      I’m well past my 10,000 hours of writing and though I’m not a “rich & famous” author by any means I’m still writing. Every day, no excuses. Because writing is my ruling passion. It’s what drives me every waking moment. It provides me purpose and fulfillment . . . and a tiny bit of money. I may not be the next Stephen King, but damn it if I don’t go to sleep every night dreaming up new scenes to get my characters stuck up the proverbial tree and wake up every morning excited about getting those characters down by throwing rocks at them until they fall. Then comes the real pleasure of motivating them into standing back up and dusting off eager for another treacherous climb . . . because that’s what good characters do.

      Gives me chills just thinking about it.

      If you spend 3 hours per day writing, no breaks, it will take you just under 10 years to get in your 10,000 hours of necessary practice. After which you will know if you have mastered your craft and should continue because you love it, or if you’re better off letting your dream die and moving on to other more worthwhile pursuits in life.

      And if you say you don’t have 3 measly hours per day for the next 10 years to spend finding out? Then you’ve already answered your own question as to whether or not writing is for you.

      “Practice makes perfect” is not a guarantee but a motto.

      Make it yours and enjoy finding out.

Why Bad Books Make Good Writers . . . or The Rule of Three

Have you ever started reading a novel and after a few chapters in you paused and asked yourself, “Why am I forcing myself to read this?” Then, in the hopes of it getting better, you continue reading only to stop a few chapters later and repeat the question?

      I have.

      We all have.

      And that’s the last unpleasantry any writer wants their readers to experience.

      I love reading fantasy above all other genres. In fact, I love it so much that I write it. Years ago I wanted to see what all the hubbub was about with the Harry Potter books I’d yet to read. I mean, everyone was reading them and talking about them. So much so in fact that they were turned into billion dollar movies. So I borrowed the first Harry Potter novel, sat and began reading. After a few chapters in I paused and asked myself, “Really? This is what all the fuss is about?”

      Now, I’m not trying to hate on what’s-her-butt’s Harry Potter novels, because obviously millions, if not billions, of people love them and have enjoyed them. But what I couldn’t get past, what began grating on my nerves after only a few chapters in, were all of the unnecessary -ly adverb tags what’s-her-butt had written into her otherwise entertaining story.

      “Harry sighed softly” or “Hermione ran fastly” or “Ron shouted loudly” and so on and so forth.

      I HATE -ly adverb tags. I mean, how else can someone sigh but soft? How else can someone run but fast? How else can someone shout but loud?

      Harry sighed. Hermione ran. Ron shouted.

      Ahh, there, that’s better.

      And so I learned never to use -ly adverb tags in my own writing . . . or at least to use them “sparingly.”

      Terry Goodkind comes to mind next. If you don’t know who Terry is, he’s the famous (or infamous, depending on whom you ask; Google search “Terry Goodkind is an asshole” at your own risk/amusement) author of the successful Sword of Truth fantasy series. His novels were so well received that one of my favorite film directors Sam Raimi turned Terry’s novels into a television show (I’m still waiting for good ol’ Sam to do the same with The Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan, but alas . . .). I heard all this fluff n’ nutter about how great a writer Terry was, so I “ran fastly” to the library and checked out a few of his books.

      These held my interest much more so than the Harry Potter books, but that’s just a personal preference. Yet after a few hours of reading I paused with reader annoyance. You see, Terry has the bad habit of repeating himself . . . and repeating himself . . . and repeating himself to the point that I wanted to tear the pages out and eat them so I could crap them out just to pee on them then yell at the stinky puddle!

      I have anger issues.

      This is not to say that I think Terry is a bad writer (though I've since graduated to superior storyweavers such as Steven Erikson's fantastic 'Malazan Book of the Fallen' series, Paul Kearney's wonderful 'The Monarchies of God' series, and <sigh> Patrick Rothfuss' poetic 'The Kingkiller Chronicle' . . . if ol' Pat ever finishes the third damn book considering he said all three were already written back in 2007 yet his trilogy is still incomplete as I write this in the tail-end of 2018). I’ve read every novel in Terry's Sword of Truth series and then some, and for the most part I enjoyed them all despite Terry's obsession with Ayn Rand and his incessant need for characters to spit out lengthy pages of boring speech. But I also learned a valuable lesson to apply to my own writing thanks to Mr. Yeard: your readers are not idiots. You don’t have to beat them over the head with the Obvious Stick by repeating something you know is important to your story’s plot just to ensure the reader will remember it when it pays off later in your story.

      And so I learned The Rule of Three: write it once for atmosphere, describe it twice for spice, and only repeat it three times throughout your entire story if it’s important.

      Atmosphere is pretty much anything background. If your protagonist is sitting at a table and the waiter drops their order off then walks away never to be seen again then there’s no point in spending the next few pages describing said nameless waiter. Spice is your protagonist’s childhood scar on their cheek, or their favorite shirt they just can’t leave the house without, or a recurring “something” that adds depth to the story or characters but doesn’t otherwise affect the plot. And anything important that affects the plot is, well, obviously important enough that it needs be repeated for the sake of your reader’s remembrance.

      But don't beat your reader over the head with it. Mentioning it three times is enough. Readers aren’t bad puppies who keep peeing on the carpet when you’re not looking.

      Personally, I had (and sometimes still do, but thank god for editing) the bad habit of having my characters standing up or sitting down.

      But how else can you stand but up? How else can you sit but down?

      In my earlier writings I had my characters standing “up” or sitting “down” all over the place! A small embarrassment, yes, though I've since fixed that personal particular writer's quirk.

      He stood. She sat. ‘Nuff said.

      Ahh, there, that’s better.

      It’s hard to find the annoying mistakes in your own writing, which is why it’s always a good idea to have someone else point your mistakes out to you . . . and preferably not a close friend or family member; they have the bad habit of telling you something is good even when it’s not so as to not hurt your pwecious wittle feelwings. Because it’s human nature to point out others’ mistakes much easier than it is to perceive our own. So use this to your utmost advantage as a writer. Because mistakes exist as opportunities for learning and improving one’s self.

      The next time you sit and begin reading a novel that you soon find grates on your nerves, maybe, just maybe consider pushing through it. Because by the time you finish you might just learn something new and valuable to apply to your own writing.

      I know I have.