Study Hacks

To Start or Not to Start

Three weeks ago I published a controversial post titled: Getting Started is Overrated. My basic point: If you want to become truly impressive, you have to focus on a small number of things, for a long period of time, to the exclusion of other activities. I don’t like the “just get started” approach to accomplishment because it makes exclusive focus difficult. As Steve Martin taught us, getting good enough to reap major rewards requires incredible dedication. Jumping at every project that catches your attention derails such monastic devotion. Instead, I suggested, you should resist starting — resist until you are absolutely sure that a pursuit is perfect for you. Only then will you able to give it the longterm dedication required. Anything less wastes time.

As you can read in the comments to the original article andin Ben Casnocha’s response, this post generated a lot of discussion. Some people agreed. For example, Stella said:

Great post! Having worked for a large multinational travel agency that forced the Culture of Start down my throat for many years, I have become very skeptical of the Richard Branson type of entrepreneur. Over the years, I have had many business and investment ideas that I’m so glad I never got around to

On the other hand, many others disagreed, such as Grad Hacker:

Starting is often the best form of research, and how do you develop a passion without starting something?

And Ben, who noted:

Some tasks give feedback faster if undertaken right away in a small dose as opposed to analyzing it from afar. Take Cal’s examples: If you want to become a writer, sure you can talk to writers and study the profession, but is there a better way to understand whether writing girds your loins than actually putting pen to paper?

The odd loin reference aside, we are faced here with a clear dilemma: who is right? I was struggling with a good answer — I see wisdom in both points of view — when a real gift came along; a gift delivered from my friend Scott Young, who recently posted a insightful dissection of this issue. His approach brings clarity to a confusing situation.

It goes as follows…

Separating Experiments From Goals

Scott makes the following observation:

I like to separate my pursuits into two broader categories: experiments and goals. Experiments are the activities you take with almost zero commitment… Goals are beyond the stage of experimenting. This is when you’ve had enough experience in an area that you want to accomplish something important within it.

Be careful about getting caught in the middle-zone. This is an area which is no longer an experiment, but you don’t have the focus and commitment to achieve anything meaningful. [Having] lots of activities in this middle-zone means you’re wasting a lot of energy that could be better spent achieving something important or finding new opportunities.

Right on, Scott! I think this model captures the best of both sides of the getting started debate. It’s okay to have both high-value goals — which require focus to the exclusion of other high-value goals — and small, low-commitment experiments — which require a small amount of time and are used only to explore. The real insight is to note that separation is key. The danger is letting an experiment reach a “middle-zone” in which it starts sapping time and energy away from your high-value goals but is still not producing meaningful results.

After thinking about this model for a few days, I want to add a few thoughts of my own:

1. Make a distinction between achievements and habits. This discussion becomes clearer when we separate out our lifestyle habits, such as fitness, reading, social events, and even minor hobbies, like biking or joining a kickball team. These all fall under the category of enjoying your life. They don’t compete with your high-value goals. You can identify them by the following two features: (1) they aren’t meant to provide large rewards; (2) their primary purpose is your day to day happiness. When I say “don’t get started,” I’m not talking about these habits. Jump in and out of these as much as you like.
2. Use experiments to explore potential new high-value goals. Unlike habits, experiments exist for the sole purpose of investigating whether a given pursuit might be worth transforming into a high-value goal. As many of you pointed out, jumping in and trying something, at a low, non-committal level, can be a good way to investigate whether or not to commit to that goal in the longterm.
3. Keep experiments obligation-free. The easiest way to have an experiment slide into that dangerous middle-zone is to have it start generating regular time obligations. The best experiments require time only at your discretion. You can, if you want, stop at the spur of the moment or put it aside for 6 months without any negative consequences. For example: Don’t experiment with becoming a journalist by taking a demanding, 20 hour-a-week copy editor position with your college newspaper. Instead, work on submitting some unsolicited op-eds. Only once you’re ready to really commit should you jump into the time-consuming, obligation-heavy entry-level work.
4. Stop experimenting once your goal slots are filled. This is perhaps the hardest advice for people to hear. Once you’ve settled on the 1-3 high-value goals that you want to commit to (the number depends on your situation, a student, for example, can support more high-value goals than a first-year investment banker), stop experimenting. Your attention needs to be focused on getting good at your long-term pursuits. Even though experimenting with new pursuits is more fun. You should only start experimenting again if you complete one of your high-value goals or start to really question whether you should replace one.
5. Experimenting within the confines of a high-value goal, however, is always allowed. I must add a crucial distinction that I think caused some havoc in the discussion over at Ben’s blog. Within the confines of a given high-value goal, experimenting is good. Expose yourself to randomness. Try lots of different angles to make progress. Anyone who achieved something very impressive will probably credit at least some serendipity along the way. The key, however, is that this random moment happened — usually — after they had committed themselves to the general direction. For example, if you want to start a business, you might want to experiment, at first, with several small ideas and random networking events. This all falls under the rubric of your entrepreneur goal. Don’t, however, spend three months taking a screenwriting course. That would be an unrelated experiment.

I find this topic fascinating. But there are, as we’ve seen already, uncountable variations and issues that arise. This is, roughly, what has worked so far for me. But I’m curious: what are your thoughts on the balance between exploring and making it big?

Lightman Lives Lightly

At first glance, Alan Lightman is the poster boy for a fast-paced, turbo-charged lifestyle. He’s currently an adjunct professor of Humanities, Creative Writing, and Physics at MIT, where, among other feats, he introduced the Institute’s first undergraduate writing requirement and founded a science writing graduate program.

Professor Lightman is perhaps best known for his writing, including the bestselling book Einstein’s Dreams. His essays on science and life have also appeared in The New Yorker, The Atlantic Monthly, Harpers, The New York Times, The New York Review of Books, and, basically, every other impressive literary publication on the planet.

When you read Professor Lightman’s biography, it’s hard not to imagine the prototypical gung-ho celebrity intellectual, glued to his blackberry, making moves, and ping-ponging messages with movers and shakers well into the night. One can only guess how many messages clog his inbox. 10,000? That’s chump change for the average busy professor. A better guess might be closer to 50,000!

But then you look a little closer at his official web site and notice a curious note:

I do not use e-mail, but you can reach me at my MIT office: [address removed], telephone: [number removed]

If anyone could make an argument that he had to have e-mail, it would be Alan Lightman. Think about it. He has to communicate constantly with students and his colleagues. He also has to zip around manuscripts and magazine articles. And what about keeping in touch with all of his high-power friends and fans? Imagine all the cool opportunities that he’s missing by shutting off the electronic spigot.

But here’s the thing: he’s busier than you and me, yet he’s doing just fine without e-mail. It hasn’t stopped him from accomplishing his professional goals or living an interesting life.

With this in mind, I implore you to shut the door, pull the blinds, and ask yourself, softly, the following question…

What would happen if you lived life without e-mail?

A Powerful Thought Experiment

I’ve been obsessed, recently, by this insidious little thought experiment. Over time, I’ve come to believe that for a significant cross section of society, life without e-mail would not only be possible, but would also reduce stress and not really cause any serious impact on their daily life or professional productivity.

First, however, let’s note who this probably doesn’t apply to: people with bosses. As has been often discussed, e-mail is asymmetrical. It’s easier to send e-mails than to receive them. Bosses want their lives to be easier at your expense. Ergo: you have to answer e-mail.

But what about the entrepreneurs or academics or writers or freelance consultants among you? Though your knee-jerk reaction might be “That’s impossible! My clients/collegauges/students/editors would never abide an e-mail free me!”, on closer examination, your situation just might be more flexible than you first believed…

Problems and Solutions

Let’s extend the thought experiment by facing our worst fears. What would become a problem if you were to lose e-mail? How might we fix it?

• Lose touch with friends. This one’s easy. E-mail is poor way to keep up with close friends. Many people, myself included, tend to have a call rotation that keeps us up to date with everyone worth pinging.
• My clients demand access. Yes. But this doesn’t have to mean e-mail access. Back in the good ‘ole days when I ran my own dot-com, we made good use of a regular phone check-in schedule and a sophisticated extranet that gave our clients the ability to check in on daily progress. At the time, this was crucial, because I was attending high school, and was a varsity athlete with daily practice, which meant that I was literally away from e-mail from 7 am to 5 pm most weekdays. They adapted.
• E-mail is the best way to send files. Register a files@<yourname>.com e-mail address. Give this to people that need to send you a file. You can check it when you know a specific file is being sent. Of course, never actually respond to any e-mails sent to this address.
• Too many people won’t go through the hassle of calling me, but they would have sent an e-mail. I’ll be missing out on this communication. Good! This filters communication down to the truly important.
• My business requires me to handle a constant stream of requests and queries from customers (or students). Build a custom web site form that allows your customers (or students) to specify:
  • the type of request,
  • a description of the request, and
  • a list of actions, if any, they require from you.

  If you want an example of such a form in action, check out the contact pages deployed by some of the more popular productivity blogs. (For example: 43 Folders.) If they insist that e-mail is the best way to contact them, build into your system the ability to do one-way e-mail. That is, to send a message, from the control panel of your request submission system, to an e-mail address, and have the reply-to address be set to something fake. You can automatically append a standard signature of the form: “please do not reply to this e-mail. If you require further information, you can…” (If you need to process a huge quantity of such requests, consider a professional grade ticket system of the type used by system administrators.)

• I’ll be left out of discussions driven by messages that are cc’d to multiple people. Very good! These are time wasters. If someone wants to put something on your plate they have to take the time to get in touch with you by phone, or in person, and explain, clearly, what is needed. If they need to check in on an ongoing project, the same holds: phone or in person. The result: less ambiguous crap. More focus.
• In general, I’m going to miss out on some communication. That’s fine. We don’t need to communicate as much as we do now.
• The editors/agents/clients I need to contact are only available on e-mail. Not true. People read letters and answer the phone. You just don’t want to make the effort.
• Regardless of what you say above, I can think hard and come up with some work, or clients, or opportunity that would be impossible without e-mail. I’m sure such things exist. Don’t do those things.

The Benefits

The benefits that arise in this thought experiment are two-fold: (1) less crap; and (2) more focus. You still accomplish the important stuff, but also free yourself from all the small, or annoying, or unnecessary, or, worst of all, ambiguous requests that eat up so much of our day. Perhaps even more profound, imagine the focus you could achieve if there was no inbox to check. Instead, you just worked until you finished what you needed to, then shut down the computer, and got down to the business of living life.

The Implication

I don’t know what to make of this thought experiment. Should we really turn back the clock on such a powerful innovation? Would we really want to? I don’t know. But Professor Lightman’s example does make one thing clear: regardless of how you personally feel, the e-mail zero lifestyle is possible. If you live in your inbox, it’s a choice you’re making; a choice you could reverse.

For the students among you, this is something to keep in mind as you plan your ideal life after college…

The (Dangerous) Art of the Start

Attend any talk given by an entrepreneur and you’ll hear some variation of the following:

The most important thing you can do is to get started!

This advice has percolated from its origin in business self-help to the wider productivity blogging community. You’ve heard it before: Do you want to become a writer? Start writing! Do you want to become fit? Join a gym today! Do you want to become a big-time blogger? Start posting ASAP! If you don’t start, you’re weak! You’re afraid of success!

Here’s the problem: I completely disagree with this common advice. I think an instinct for getting started cripples your chance at long-term success. And I suggest that, on the contrary, you should develop rigorous thresholds that any pursuit must overcome before it can induce action.

Allow me to explain why…

The Origin of the Cult of the Start

If you talk to an accomplished speaker, especially one with a focus on entrepreneurship, he’ll tell you his “get started” message is crucial. Indeed, one of the biggest frustrations faced by speakers in this circuit is how often they meet young people who are psyched to start a business, but then allow, over time, for their enthusiasm to fade without ever taking action.

These speakers counter this effect by drilling the importance of starting. “Do anything!”, they yell. “Send one e-mail, check out one book, register one domain name!” The theory is that even the smallest action can overcome some mythical initial resistance, and help build an inescapable momentum toward business nirvana.

But is getting started right away always the best option?

Survivor Bias

In his convention-busting book, Fooled by Randomness, Nassim Taleb preaches the danger of survivor bias — a common fallacy in which we emulate people who succeeded without considering those who used similar techniques but failed. Taleb uses the example of The Millionaire Next Door, a popular finance guide in which the authors interviewed a large group of millionaires. As Taleb points out, the habits of these millionaires — accumulating wealth through spartan living and aggressive investments — should not be emulated unless one can determine how many more people followed a similar strategy but failed to hit it big.

Perhaps a more poignant example would be to find and interview the 10 people in the country who had the biggest and fastest overall increase to their finances in the last year. Guess who would dominate this list? Lottery winners. Ignoring the survivor bias, one could conclude: the people who get richest fastest all invested heavily in lottery tickets, so that’s what I should do too!

The same, of course, can be applied to an entrepreneur, or anyone, really, who had success in a glamorous pursuit. To the winner, their path seems straightforward. It was just a matter of putting in the time and the results followed. To someone in this position, it can be incredibly frustrating to watch people denying themselves similar success simply because they’re afraid to get started.

But the survivor bias lurks…

For every successful entrepreneur, or writer, or blogger, or actor, there are dozens of others who did get started but then flamed out. Some people lack the right talents. For many more, the pursuit, once past that initial stage of generic, heady enthusiasm, simply lost its attraction and their interest waned.

The Saturation Method

I have observed many people who have had long-term success in an impressive pursuit. I have also observed many people who went after such successes yet failed. I hope by combining both outcomes — success and failure — I can identify a predictor of the former that will remain free of the taint of survivor bias.

In short, I’ve noticed that people who succeed in an impressive pursuit are those who:

• Established, over time, a deep emotional conviction that they want to follow that pursuit.
• Have built an exhaustive understanding of the relevant world, why some succeed and others don’t, and exactly what type of action is required.

This takes time. Often it requires a long period of saturation, in which the person returns again and again to the world, meeting people and reading about it and trying little experiments to get a feel for its reality. This period will be at least a month. It might last years.

Steve Martin’s Diligence

Steve Martin noted that the key to becoming really good at something (so good that they can’t ignore you), is diligence, which he defines as effort over time to the exclusion of other pursuits. This is why people who ultimately succeed in a pursuit go through such a long period of vetting before they begin — if you’re not 100% convinced and ready to tackle something, potentially for years, to the exclusions of the hundreds of interesting new ideas that will pop up along the way, you’ll probably fizzle out well before reaping any reward.

The Art of Not Starting

This reality brings me back to my original point: try not to get started. If you translate every burst of enthusiasm into action, you’re going to waste time. More dangerous, you’re going to hobble your chances of succeeding in any pursuit, as the constant influx of new activity prevents you from achieving a Steve Martin-style diligence.

My advice: resist starting. Spend lots of time learning about different pursuits, but put off action until an idea begins to haunt your daydreams and refuses to be dislodged from your aspirational psyche. Then, and only then, should you reluctantly take that first step, one of what’s sure to be many, many more before you get to where you want.

Related Posts

• Dangerous Ideas: Action is Overrated
  
• The Steve Martin Method: A Master Comedian’s Advice for Becoming Famous
• The Einstein Principle: Accomplish More By Doing Less
• Getting to the Point of “I Can Do This!” (via. Ben Casnocha)

Dartmouth’s Three Valedictorians

Earlier this week I was surprised to read that Dartmouth College, my alma mater, graduated three valedictorians this year; all three students having earned perfect 4.0’s.

There was a time, not too long past, when this would have been unprecedented. My class’s valedictorian, for example, did not have a 4.0. In the years leading up to my graduation, records indicate that a student achieved a 4.0, at most, one out of every two or three years.

Now we have three such students all at once.

Grade Inflation

Chatting recently with a Dartmouth Professor, I suggested that perhaps the three simultaneous valedictorians were due to an exceptionally smart class. He was sad to report that, in fact, it was much more likely attributed to grade inflation.

In recent years, he noted, the median grade of Dartmouth classes had risen to an A-. A 4.0 G.P.A. — once the hallmark of exceptional academic achievement — has been reduced to just slightly above average.

This observation sparked a natural question: as more and more schools fall under the thrall of grade inflation, what role does study advice play? That is, if everyone can get an A, why sweat the details?

Beyond the G.P.A. Metric

After some reflection, I have an answer to propose. First, however, I should note that grade inflation, in its most severe forms, is still somewhat confined to the Ivy League and comparable schools. (Or so I hear, correct me if this is no longer true.) As several professors have told me, the rise in grades at these institutions is not, as many curmudgeons love to declare, due to increased complaining by over-ambitious kids. It’s caused more by a lack of meaningful differentiation among students’ performance.

At the risk of oversimplification: slackers don’t get into Dartmouth. Everyone works hard (enough). Everyone does pretty well. (Even the most hardcore frat rats these days are kept on task by their fear of the Lehman Brother’s resume screen.) Professors get nervous dividing up the class into A’s, B’s, and C’s, because, honestly, there just isn’t all that much difference between many of the ‘A’ kids and those in the ‘C’ bin.

My point is that the problem I’m addressing here might not be a problem for you. If it is, however, I propose the following:

Make lifestyle quality a more important metric than grades.

If the median grade in your classes is an ‘A-’, your grades no longer serve as a useful measure of your performance as a student: work reasonably hard and you’ll get the highest possible score — even if your habits are less than optimal.

Good study advice, however, can still have a profound impact on another, arguably equally important metric: your lifestyle quality. Though you may be able to consistently knock out ‘A’ papers through marathon writing sessions and ace exams with all-night cramming, that is still a lousy, stressful existence.

My modest proposal is that for the grade inflated among you, turn your attention to making your student life as enjoyable as impossible. Try, for example, to maximize:

• Your free time.
• Your intellectual engagement.
• Your adventures.
• Your relationships.
• Your time spent doing things that ten years from now you’ll never ever admit having done.
• Your general enjoyment of life.

Here is where good studying hacking still plays an important role — even when top grades don’t require top effort. The difference between a few targeted hours of work most days, and a hectic, over-scheduled, always late, up all night work schedule, is worth more than just the grades your receive at the end of each term.

In other words: improve your study habits not just so you can score higher, but, in addition, to construct a life your happy to live.

The Simple Six Letter Word That Determines Success

A few weeks back, Brian Clark, of Copyblogger fame, posted an intriguing article on Zen Habits. It was titled: Punk Rock Your Life: The Simple Six Letter Word That Determines Success.

The essay got some attention; eventually earning 1090 digs and 92 comments. I can see why. Like any timeless advice fable, it presents a simple message built around a compelling, illustrative story. Clark describes a Sex Pistols concert held in 1976 in Manchester, England. In attendance at this concert where a surprisingly large number of then unknown musicians who, inspired by the innovation on display, went on to become famous. Clark draws a clear conclusion:

So, what’s the six-letter word that determines success in life? Action.

Is that correct? The answer, I believe, is more complicated…

Beyond Action

Ask yourself the following: Do you anyone who tried to become a professional musician? Most people do. Did they succeed? Most such aspirants do not. (It’s a brutal business.)

Now ask yourself this: Did they work hard? Most likely, you answered “yes.” So why did the failed musicians you know not succeed when the inspired Sex Pistols fans did? There are several possible answers. Luck could play a role. Also talent. Maybe different levels of hard work. But none of these factors, alone, seems to provide the full story. On a closer examination of the hundreds of success stories I’ve witnessed or told, I’m starting to arrive at a new truth: Action cannot generate success unless it’s focused on an incredibly productive path.

Let me explain…

Punk, Not America Idol

Allow me a modest proposal. The reason those Sex Pistol fans became successful punk musicians is because they discovered a productive path on which to apply action. Here was a new type of music with the potential of making a big splash in that social context. By virtue of their age, where they lived, their political views, and their social circles, these musicians were uniquely qualified to be an early promoter of this genre that had explosive potential. All that was missing was taking the action to get there. Those that did made it big.

Consider, on the other hand, if I was to watch an episode of American Idol and get inspired and proclaim: “This is great! I want to do this!” Who cares. No amount of action is going to make me into a pop music star. Ditto if I wanted to become a great cage fighter or literary novelist. These paths would not be productive for my particular situtation.

Steve Martin Knew It

On reflection, this approach of identifying a productive direction for your action is embedded in our recent discussion of the Steve Martin Method. When he says “be so good they can’t ignore you,” you could substitute “relevant,” “new,” “necessary,” or “original” for “good.” Indeed, this is exactly what Martin did. He didn’t become good at the style of comedy currently in vogue. Instead, he invented a new style so compelling that it could not be ignored. Because he was a young, smart, well-educated comedy writer during a time of great social change, he was in a prefect situation to make this happen.

Applying to Your Life

I’m still working out some of these ideas, and can’t, at this point, distill this brainstorm into concrete advice, or even provide strong definitions of key concepts like “productive path.” I do think, however, that something important is brewing here. I will be revisiting the concept soon.

In the mean time, let me know what you think. How does this match or clash with your own experience? How does one best take advantage of this reality of big achievement? I’m interested to dive deeper.

(Hat Tip: Academic Productivity via why that’s delightful via OmniBrain via … via elephantitis of the mind)

Lincoln’s Focused Childhood

I watched a documentary last night on the childhood of Abraham Lincoln. (Which is exactly the type of insane excitement you can expect at the ‘ole Newport household.) What struck me was Lincoln’s focus. The tale is classic: every night, by candlelight, the young man would read into the twilight hours: seeking to understand hard thoughts and develop his own. The ambition this knowledge sparked kicked off his famed political journey.

Lincoln, of course, was not alone. I recently read, for example, biographies of John Adams and Benjamin Franklin. Both had a similar self-instigated scholarly dedication to mastering hard ideas and developing their own views of the world.

Here’s my question: would this have been possible in the age of the Internet?

The Era of Focus is Ending

Recent research reveals that the average office worker checks his e-mail 30 to 40 times an hour. I shudder to think what the results would be for a college student, working on an assignment with e-mail, gchat, twitter, and Facebook all standing at the ready.

Some companies, such as Intel, are even going so far as to instigate e-mail free days. The reason:

” [interruptions] prevent us from thinking carefully for any unbroken stretch of time.”

The effect: hard thinking doesn’t get done.

“After all, it’s much easier to fire off 10 e-mails than to sit down for an hour and think hard about how to turn around your division’s performance.”

If the Internet is robbing us of our ability to sit and concentrate, without distraction, in a Lincoln log cabin style of intense focus, we must ask the obvious question: are we doomed to be a generation bereft of big ideas? Will we lose, over time, like some vestigial limb, our ability to focus on something difficult for extended stretches? As a graduate student, I’ve had to put in place what are, in essence, rigorous training programs to help pump up my attention span. It’s a huge struggle for me. Somehow, I imagine, if Lincoln was in my position, he wouldn’t be having this same problem.

Moving Forward

This post is more a meditation than a plan of action. There is no magic answer; just an important thought we should struggle to answer. History’s great figures have been those who were willing to put in those long, hard hours of difficult focus on the difficult questions of their age. Do we have that ability in us And, if not, how do we start the process of gaining it back?

I’m interested in your thoughts…

What Impresses You?

Study Hack readers, I assume, are ambitious. They like the idea of staking a unique route through life, preferably one that impresses others. But what constitutes impressiveness?

Having spent the past seven years writing about young people whom most would agree, reflexively, fit the definition of “impressive” (whatever it is), I felt I was in an interesting position to hypothesize on the subject. In doing so, I derived a surprising conclusion. And I want to share it with you.

The Two Types of Accomplishments

If you do something hard I will give you my respect. If you build your blog to 5000 subscribers, I will acknowledge that you accomplished something hard. I will take you seriously. Ditto if you’re an excellent guitar player. Or, grew a solid business from nothing.

You will not, however, reach rock star status. You will not have groupies. People will not be magnetically drawn to you. Indeed, you will probably be the target of a some malcontented gossip: “he got lucky,” “he’s a grind,” “he’s too ambitious.” A failure might spark some schadenfreude among the more rock-hearted of your peers.

The same would not hold true if instead you won a Pulitzer Prize for your novel. Or, had your band become an underground hit in New York.

For some reason, these latter accomplishments will hit others as more pure. More natural. People might lob the word “genius” in your direction. (Something your successful blog is unlikely to elicit.) You may have groupies. People will tolerate your eccentricities. They’ll fight to be close.

Assuming this is true: Why? What is the difference here?

I Could Do That…But I Didn’t

Here’s my theory:

The first class of achievement is knowable. Someone can simulate roughly what it takes to become great at the guitar or build a blog. They believe, in the back of their mind, that given enough time and motivation, they too could replicate the feat. You are given respect for your dedication. But dedication reeks of the mundane, so this respect falls short of idolization.

The second class of achievement, on the other hand, has an aura of magic. It fits our national obsession with natural genius. It’s difficult to simulate writing a great novel or having that mojo that makes a band hot. People do not think they could do these things, even if given a lot of time. How you did it remains mysterious — like magic.

This also makes you less of a threat. You’re not drawing attention to their lack of dedication, but, instead, merely showing off a god-given talent that people can comfortably accept they do not possess.

(In social psych, this is called the genius effect. When someone is demonstrably more talented, it serves our self-esteem best to elevate their ability to grandiose, unobtainable levels.)

The Implication

The dirty secret of this game is that when you gain expertise within a given area, it soon becomes clear that the idea of pure genius begins to crumble. Left in the rubble: work.

Here at MIT, the 25-year-old prodigy professor who has an office on my floor works significantly longer hours than anyone else.

There’s a reason no one writes a great novel before the age of 27 — it takes around a decade of hard work to polish craft to a point where such a feat becomes a possibility.

Top rock bands craft a sounds for years. Those that succeed mix hard work with being in the right place with the right sound at the right time in music history.

The point: “magic” is not that much different than hard work. Sure, there is a lot of luck mixed in and it does require some natural talent, but typically not the Good Will Hunting style insta-genius that we like to mythologize. All things being equal, therefore, you should go after magic when the opportunity presents itself. The return on investment can be staggering. Or so I hear. I’m still working on my novel…

Jon Dismisses Grades

Yesterday, Jon Morrow wrote a guest post on the Brazen Careerist blog. It was titled: Why I Regret Getting Straight-A’s in College. It subsequently got picked up by Life Hacker, and, as you might imagine, has since been making the rounds.

In light of my experience with this issue, I want to offer a rebuttal. I don’t agree with Jon. But I do like his post. It is well-reasoned and rational — a perfect starting place for a polite, insightful debate.

Five Reasons Why Jon Regrets Getting Straight-A’s

Jon lists five main reasons why he regrets getting straight-A’s in college:

1. “No one has ever asked about my GPA.“
2. “I didn’t sleep.“
3. “I’ve forgotten 95% of it.“
4. “I didn’t have time for people.”
5. “Work experience is more valuable.”

For the sake of concision we can combine (2) and (4), as they both describe the same problem: good grades require too much study time. And we can also combine (1) and (5), as they both tackle the question of what matters when applying for a job. With these combinations complete, we can now tackle the main arguments in turn:

Argument #1: Employers Don’t Care About Your GPA

Jon argues:

I interviewed with lots of companies, received a total of 14 job offers after graduation, and none of the companies asked about [my GPA].

Grades are rarely discussed in job interviews. Does this mean they don’t matter? Of course not! Grades play a crucial rule in the hidden first step of the interview process: the resume screen.

When an organization has a competitive entry level position open, they are going to receive resumes from more candidates than they have time to interview. Accordingly, they perform a quick triage. Their focus: where you went to school, your grades, and, if relevant, work experience. If your grades are low, you will probably get tossed aside without ever being granted an interview.

The reason employers don’t bring up your grades in an interview is because there is no need. They already know your GPA. It’s a big reason why they agreed to interview you. Now it’s time to move beyond your marks and convince them you have the other skills necessary to be a good hire.

This reality does not just apply to investment banks and consulting firms. Almost any company that is hiring an entry level position needs some method of triage. This includes non-profit organizations. Do you want to save the world? Or join Teach for America? You better have a good GPA. These do-gooder firms are notorious for screening entry-level resumes on grades. (They get a lot of applicants, they can afford to choose the best.)

In short: a mediocre GPA will close a lot a entry level doors. Unless you are definite that you want a job in an industry that does not care at all about GPA (for example, the freelance writing gig mentioned by Jon in the post), you should think twice before drastically narrowing your options with a low average.

Argument #2: Getting Straight-A’s Devours Your Free Time

Jon argues:

Unless you’re a super genius, getting 37 A’s is hard work…I had lots of opportunities to build a huge network. But I didn’t have time.

This is an argument I hear frequently. It’s 100% false. It pops up so often because it is built upon the deceptively appealing logical fallacy of the false dichotomy. Jon implicitly assumes the following choice:

1. Work 60-100 hours a week and score straight A’s.
2. Work much less and score mainly B’s.

Faced with this choice, (2) is the obvious way to go. Working 100 hours a week in college would be terrible! But this dichotomy assumes that grades are mainly a function of how many hours you spend. As loyal Study Hacks readers know, this is false. Your grades are a combination of: how you study, your energy when you study, and time spent. Smart strategies for the first two can keep the third really small.

Case in point: I studied much less than most people I knew in college, but my GPA was higher than Jon’s, who, as he describes, was “obsessed” with getting an A+ on every assignment. Most students who e-mail me success stories, emphasize not just that their grades are higher, but that they are studying much less now that they’ve cleaned up their habits. The real choice is:

1. Study with bad habits for 60 - 100 hours a week and get A’s.
2. Study with good habits for much less time and get A’s.
3. Study with bad habits for much less time and get B’s.

Faced with this more accurate choice, (2) becomes the best option. What Jon really regrets is having terrible study habits that ate up all his time. The goal of getting good grades is not to blame. Focus on being efficient to solve the problem.

Argument #3: I’ve Forgotten 95% of It

Jon argues:

I majored in English Literature and minored in Communication Theory…I spent all my time reading classic literature and memorizing vague, pseudoscientific communication theories. Neither are useful at all, and I’ve forgotten at least 95% of it.

College is not vocational school. Its mission is rooted in enlightenment thinking: By being exposed to great minds you become a better citizen of the world. True, you will probably never need to explicitly discuss much of what you read from the Western Canon. But there is a reason why we have been studying these books for the last 300 years. They equip you to tackle life. They add nuance to your understanding of ethics and morality. They complicate your view of the human condition. They change your reception of the signal of life experience from black and white to HD.

The same holds true for social science and physical sciences. You might not use a specific communication theory, but you have learned to view information flow in a more critical, nuanced light. Do you really think 18-year-old Jon is equally equipped to tackle life as 22-year-old college graduate Jon? Or did four years of exposure to the detailed thinking of smart minds perhaps facilitate some mental maturing — even if you didn’t agree with everything you learned.

In the end, however, I’m not qualified to provide a great defense for the liberal arts. For this, I should defer to those that have done so with informed eloquence.

Conclusion

I appreciate Jon’s thoughtful essay. We differ because of the following three observations that I hold to be true:

1. For a large number of entry-level jobs, your GPA does matter.
2. Getting good grades does not require you to work more than most students.
3. Their There is a value to learning things that you don’t have immediate practical use for.

If you agree with these observations, then you fall into my pro-grades camp. If you believe them flawed, Jon’s conclusion will seem more rational. Either way, it’s nice to have the opportunity to engage in well-reasoned debate on the topic.

What are your thoughts? Do you regret trying to score good grades?