Turning Pro summary

The author has an insanely talented friend – a piano prodigy who takes prize-winning photographs. She’s also a near-world-class swimmer. But despite this, she’s far from reaching her full potential. Instead of developing her talents, she’s preoccupied with having tempestuous affairs, which makes her life miserable.

You don’t have to be a prodigy to be like the author’s friend. Pursuing a calling is risky because it exposes you to potential rejection and failure. To mask those uncomfortable feelings, many people develop addictions – like obsessively falling in love or spending hours on social media. And feeding those addictions stops you from becoming a pro.

Have you heard the expression “to shoot yourself in the foot”? It means to deliberately harm yourself. This saying arose from trench warfare in World War I. Soldiers would deliberately shoot themselves in a debilitating but non-fatal way, so they’d be excused from duty. That way, they could avoid facing the horrors that awaited them in no-man’s-land.

Amateurs have something in common with those soldiers. Their addictive habits cause self-inflicted wounds that prevent them from working. When you let fly a metaphorical bullet into your foot, you no longer have to face your calling on the battlefield.

Before he dedicated himself to writing, the author lived in New York, driving cabs. One night, alone in his sublet apartment, he realized he’d consistently been taking himself down phony pathways that led away from his authentic self. And he could no longer justify this behavior.

So, in a state of pure dread, he dug out his neglected Smith-Corona typewriter and punched out sentences for two hours straight. It was torture, and what he wrote was so bad that he tossed it straight into the trashcan. But something significant had shifted inside him. Flooded with energy, he headed to the kitchen to wash a ten-day pile of dirty dishes. He realized he was whistling. Somehow, he knew he was going to be okay.

Nothing terrifies an amateur quite like silence and solitude. When you’re still and quiet, the little voice inside you – the one that knows the truth – can finally speak up. That’s why you’re constantly scanning Twitter or checking your inbox for new messages. You’re seeking out distraction to drown out that voice at any cost. It’s even costing you your authentic self.

As an amateur, you’re terrified of that little voice because deep down, you already know what it wants to say. Listening to it will mean acknowledging that you should be writing, or launching that start-up, or building that free clinic for people in need. But since that’ll cause major upheaval in your life, you close off your ears.

During the time Picasso lived and worked in Paris, the gallerist who sold his paintings visited his studio to view his latest collection. He was thrilled with the series of portraits, which had taken Picasso months to paint. But while the gallerist was praising Picasso for his genius, the artist grabbed a palette knife and slashed the paintings, one by one.

As a pro, you must demand the highest standards from yourself. It takes a great deal of courage to judge your work honestly, especially in the face of praise. Picasso could have easily let the gallerist sell his paintings, but that would have been selling out. Staying true to your vision is what counts when you’re a pro, and that changes how you see your work.

In monasteries across the globe, the monks rise together, don their robes, and gather to meditate at the exact same time. This happens every morning, without exception. The energy generated by this commitment and dedication is a powerful force. It creates order in the natural chaos of the universe. And in that space of order, inspiration and enlightenment come.

Just like these monks, when you choose to go pro you have to commit to a daily routine – a practice. This practice will have to be rigorous – otherwise, you won’t be able to master your skill of choice. And more often than not it will connect you more deeply to a greater power – be it a god, inspiration, or the self.

Following a strict practice contradicts the romanticized notion of the impulsive artist, consumed by inspiration. Many amateurs fear that discipline will kill creative magic. But that isn’t true. Just consider the monk whose ultimate goal is to reach enlightenment. He won’t find it while scaling up a Himalayan mountain. He’ll find it in the stillness of meditation.

The discipline of a practice will help you overcome the inner obstacles that keep you from work, like procrastination, perfectionism, and self-doubt. By staying committed to your practice, you can press on in spite of your fears. And by having faith that your muse will show up when you set to work, you’ll consistently make progress.