According to Cal Newport, the two keys necessary for thriving in the coming AI-centric economy are (1) the ability to quickly master hard things, and (2) the ability to produce at an elite level, in terms of both quality and speed.
In order to do these things you must be able to do deep work. Working deeply means sitting down, tuning out distraction, and focusing on one hard problem for an extended period of time.
The problem, however, with focusing on one hard problem for an extended period of time is that it’s… hard. And we’re convinced that it shouldn’t be. This is certainly how I felt. I came to believe, perhaps through popular culture, that deeply cognitive work should just… flow. That when I sit down at my desk, inspiration would strike from above and I’d become a vessel for magical inputs and outputs. Like John Nash from the movie A Beautiful Mind, working furiously on math problems all night possessed.
I thought that in order to do deep work, I have to enter a state of flow.
Flow, a concept introduced by psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, describes a state of optimal experience characterized by complete immersion and engagement in an activity. During flow, people often lose track of time and are fully absorbed in the task at hand. This state is usually enjoyable—euphoric even—and occurs when a person's skill level perfectly matches the challenge of the task, providing a balance that fosters deep concentration.
Yet when I would actually sit down to do cognitively demanding work—write an article, study a new skill or topic, solve a challenging problem, do my taxes—reality never matched my fantasy. Instead, it would always be HARD. I’d be uncomfortable. No outside force would take over and make it effortless. I’d feel every damn minute and become more disengaged as each one passed.
Inevitably, I’d get discouraged and give up, assuming there was something wrong with me. I just wasn’t smart enough and capable of concentrating deeply (and thus achieving my dreams) because it didn’t come naturally and I struggled too much.
"Inspiration is for amateurs... the rest of us just show up and get to work." - Chuck Close
I eventually encountered a concept called deliberate practice. A term popularized by psychologist Anders Ericsson, it refers to a highly structured activity engaged in specifically to improve performance. Deliberate practice requires effort, is not inherently enjoyable, and involves specific goals of improving your ability through continuous feedback and pushing your skills to the limit.The people who master the art of deliberate practice are committed to being lifelong learners—always exploring and experimenting and refining.
This concept really resonated with me and helped me understand that my striving for flow was actually holding me back. Because the reality is deep work is hard. Sometimes gruelling. It can even be painful. It’s much more like practicing than performing.
While both flow and deliberate practice involve intense focus and engagement, they differ primarily in their purpose and emotional experience.
Flow is typically enjoyable and naturally engaging. It’s a state where you get lost in the activity of doing something because it's difficult enough to not get bored but easy enough to accomplish. You lose track of time.
Deliberate practice is effortful, not necessarily enjoyable, and aimed at skill improvement.
Flow is a performance state not a practice state; it’s the feeling of performance.
Deliberate practice is hard and not conducive to flow.
Think of a professional athlete. When they're practicing, it’s often grueling. There are long days spent learning new skills and altering existing ones. Habits and muscle memory are purposely broken down and rebuilt. A lot of frustration and patience is involved as the athlete’s brain struggles to work through challenging drills and techniques it hasn’t performed before. This isn’t an environment conducive to flow, and the athlete knows this.
But on game day, when they just go out there and perform the skills they’ve practiced thousands of times, they’re much more likely to get into a flow state as the mind and body know exactly what to do.
Deep work is deliberate practice. It's hard. And it’s supposed to be that way. Once I realized this—once I understood that there wasn’t anything wrong with me—I could just show up with curiosity and patience and get to work.
Deep work is going to feel unpleasant because that's how you get better. So embrace it instead of running from it.
The next time you’re struggling, remind yourself that this is what it feels like to get better. And keep pushing.
