When Malcolm Gladwell introduced the "10,000 hour rule" to the public, the idea was tremendously exciting, but equally infuriating.
In his 2008 book Outliers, citing research by Anders Ericsson, Gladwell concludes that it takes about 10,000 hours of practice, or ten years, to become an expert in most fields. The idea was exciting because it put an objective measure on what it takes to be a great performer. "I just need to practice volleyball for ten years and I'll be amazing!"
The infuriating part was the dubious definition of practice (not to mention the limitations of genetics). If I hit a volleyball into a wall for 10,000 hours, will I become a great outside hitter? If I scribble random musings in my journal for ten years will I become the next Hemingway?
The answer is obviously no. So how can we define practice? Here's one way:
"This might not work."
Real practice involves risk. Hitting a volleyball against a wall isn't risky. It's guaranteed to work every time, and you'll probably look good doing it.
But there's fear involved when you practice hitting a new set in front of your coach. This might not work. You might get judged. You might fail. The stakes are even higher in a game because you might lose. This might not work.
I feel very comfortable writing in my journal because nobody will ever see it. It's definitely going to work, and I'm not going to get judged. But when I hit publish on a blog post, people will see it, and some people won't like it. It might not to work.
As long as it's not fatal, this might not work is what counts most towards 10,000 hours of practice.