Grit by Angela Duckworth

The daughter of a scientist who frequently noted her lack of "genius," Angela Duckworth is now a celebrated researcher and professor. It was her early eye-opening stints in teaching, business consulting, and neuroscience that led to her hypothesis about what really drives success: not genius, but a unique combination of passion and long-term perseverance.

In Grit, she takes us into the field to visit cadets struggling through their first days at West Point, teachers working in some of the toughest schools, and young finalists in the National Spelling Bee. She also mines fascinating insights from history and shows what can be gleaned from modern experiments in peak performance. Finally, she shares what she's learned from interviewing dozens of high achievers—from JP Morgan CEO Jamie Dimon to New Yorker cartoon editor Bob Mankoff to Seattle Seahawks Coach Pete Carroll.

Among Grit's most valuable insights: any effort you make ultimately counts twice toward your goal; grit can be learned, regardless of IQ or circumstances; when it comes to child-rearing, neither a warm embrace nor high standards will work by themselves; how to trigger lifelong interest; the magic of the Hard Thing Rule; and so much more. Winningly personal, insightful, and even life-changing, Grit is a book about what goes through your head when you fall down, and how that—not talent or luck—makes all the difference.

Thanks for reading Words Like Silver! Subscribe for free to support my work.

Subscribe Now

placeholder

Why I Picked It Up

There is no good way to say this without sounding incredibly full of myself, but I am possibly the most persistent person I know, with the exception of my father, to the extent that it's actually strange, unusual, and possibly bad.

I'd like to think that I'm normally pretty balanced on the blog, examining psychological reads and novel reflections with a (hopefully nuanced) exploration of both my strengths and my flaws. I'd like you to think that I'm a confident, secure, but humble enough person who knows I have a long way to go and a whole lot still to learn. But this review will be so unbelievably obnoxious that I'm warning you now that I will be slightly insufferable in my conceitedness about this topic.

There is stubbornness, and then there is commitment to your philosophy to the extent that it may actually kill you, and I am one-hundred-percent the latter. I've gotten better at being kinder to myself in the ways that I fall short of my perfectionism and associated goals, but the knowledge of "grit" has been such a helpful framework for me during my formative years, and several insights from this book are illuminating.

In general, Grit has been cited so frequently in other works that I almost felt like there was no new ground to cover, especially in regards to the modern hustle culture of the U.S.—but it is iconic for a reason, a foundation for the school of thought. So I, at the very least, wanted it on my shelf as a reminder of why I'm doing what I do and to keep at it. It's instinctive and familiar, resonant to you if you've ever had a high school lacrosse coach tell you, "Hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard" or similar.

Grit as a concept is the quality most crucial to my sense of self and the construction of my personality (and goals.) It is the attribute I'm most proud of, and maybe the one that's most dangerous to me too. It absolutely affects my connections to others. So let's get into it.

Excuse Me Being Just a Bit Insufferable, But I'm a Brat About This One Thing—

For starters, I am an absolute brat about one very particular element of my book-writing journey, which was secret for several years. Often, someone will introduce me to another as "Grace is writing a book," and this is the one mistake I will always, always correct.

Grace is not writing a book. Grace wrote a book. In fact, I've written two separate novels, the latter of which I've gutted and rewritten at least four distinctive times. So I technically think I should be able to say I've written five or six.

Anyway, writing a book is one of the most commonly cited bucket list items for Americans. I think it's a natural instinct; everyone wants to feel like they have something to say and left their mark. But out of those people, it's something like 1% of people who actually finish one. The intention itself is impressive, of course, but the finishing turns the act into something different entirely and is worthy of its own distinction.

And then beyond that, we get into realms like getting a literary agent, (in my case) leaving and re-querying literary agents again, and then going on submission—if you're pursuing traditional publishing.

So we go from approximately 1% odds of finishing to the astronomically small <0.06% (guesstimated) odds of being signed for one, and then the stubborn/horrible decision to find a better fit and go to beat <0.06% odds for the second time. On submission, I've anecdotally heard maybe 10%?

This is of course entirely divorced from quality, craft, and market demand, but assuming all books are the same—which they're not, subjectively. Either way, I have beaten absolutely ridiculous odds multiple times, and I will stand behind those figures as a tribute to my individual perseverance because I have experienced, time and time again, people tell me it is their life's dream to write a book but then never actually do it. I'm not speaking of those in precarious financial situations or severe lack of disposable time; most who tell me this are in similar boats to me—and thus have the ability to triage according to their values.

It is not your life dream unless you are actively doing it. That sounds harsh. Sorry. I made sacrifices. I've spent my entire life pursuing this, with close to ten years of active work on novel-writing. It's okay not to know what you want. But it's not grit if you know what you want and are not aligning yourself to pursue it.

And after all of that, should I be so blessed to receive a book deal for my efforts, there will be more edits, contract negotiations, and then a solid year to year and a half until it's on shelves. Throughout it all, I will maintain the same devotion and commitment, and likely be writing another novel in parallel. Very few people understand or have the genuine stamina for the process. (In fairness, publishing is an ungodly slow industry.)

Even in publishing, a lot of authors don't make it past their third book or so. I do plan to be an exception here and work my hardest to make it a lifelong pursuit.

I wrote a book. Not am writing. There is a difference. It means I have the stamina and tenacity and capacity for pain and the larger vision, and the cohesive picture of all of those things forms what we know of as "grit."

What It Says & What I Thought

Voice-wise, Grit is pretty solid, but I'd also note that it's a little awkward and abrupt while shifting between examples and is also clearly written through more of a self-help lens than I normally prefer. (I like plausible deniability.)

All personality testing has its flaws, serving as a raft of technicality we cling to that can turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy. When I first took the grit test years ago, I scored in the 99th percentile; your grit score can change and fluctuate over time. Right now, I've just scored at about 95 percent, but that's because I have consciously been trying to let go of my self-imposed standards a little more for the sake of better social relationships.

I'd say I'm stubborn on most levels but also incredibly grateful for everything I have, and graceful relationally. Objectively, I am kind and honest; I almost never lie. (I would say never, entirely, but I'm sure I have accidentally lied and not realized it, even if just to myself. I never said I wasn't delusional!) I've matured in that I don't need to be right, that I'm okay with someone potentially getting me wrong, and I won't beat a dead horse if I think doing so will harm someone I care about. Some things are more important.

But I will love what I do until it kills me. In college, my boss at the time told me that there was burning the candle at both ends and then there was chucking the whole thing into the fire—and I was the latter. (I loved that line so much that I wrote it into my book. Thanks, Jamie!)

Until I cease to want, I will never cease to work. A question game recently asked me what my most toxic trait was, and I said this one. It's both a blessing and a curse that I genuinely believe I can do anything I set my mind to, because I will outlast every challenge.

“Grit is about working on something you care about enough that you're willing to stay loyal to it.”

Of course, there are some maladaptations surrounding the presence of grit. Like many qualities, it is U-shaped: helpful to a certain point and harmful past the point of hedonistic yield in that we hold onto characteristics we define ourselves by long after they prove useful. I am vulnerable to burnout. I might be chasing that next hit of dopamine. I am largely solitary.

Does the Transparency of My Desire Hurt Me?

Of course, I'm a writer, so I articulate everything. It's cathartic for me, a natural instinct. And I've grown up musing to my blog—which I will get to below.

It turns out that, although we admire perseverance, we do have an inherent bias towards "natural genius." We prefer to think that talent sprung fully-formed from the womb, basically (which totally explains what I call my child prodigy complex, or my joke that every year I age is a year less of eligibility to earn Forbes 30 Under 30. Frankly, I'm still beating myself up for not having a book deal at 16, when I finished my first. But I digress. I have this tendency to assume I need to do everything young.)

We like effortless. We are drawn to people who seem more polished than we do. So although we respect grit way more, we have a longing to be like those who are natural.

“With everything perfect,” Nietzsche wrote, “we do not ask how it came to be.” Instead, “we rejoice in the present fact as though it came out of the ground by magic.”

Part of the reasoning is that if we can tell ourselves that the perfection of a result is from natural talent, we don't compare ourselves—and hold ourselves to the standard of doing better. A lot of people don't want to scrutinize their own flaws.

“Greatness is doable. Greatness is many, many individual feats, and each of them is doable.”

One researcher cited in Grit pointed out the mundanity of excellence. Excellence is a lot of small details sharpened and perfected over time, meaning that consistency ultimately gets us greater gains than intensity. And sure, some have a talent for learning and adapting (I'm a quick study, for example) but effort counts twice. Deliberate practice made more of a difference, with specific methods creating greater impact.

Of course, grit as a quality is uneven and imperfect, present in some aspects but not in others. Some studies suggest that willpower is a battery and that we should be careful to preserve it for the pursuits that matter most.

Does That Mean You Never Quit Anything? On the Highest-Level Philosophies

When I settled in to read this and retake my score, I was expecting much lower. Although I've now put 7-ish years of work (four fully devoted) to a singular book and 13+ years into this good ol' book blog, I haven't stuck with absolutely everything I've done in recent years. I've quit contracts. So does that mean I'm not as gritty?

“Many of us quit what we start too early and often.”

Ultimately, the book says no, and soothed some of my worries here, actually. One of the best and hardest skills I've had to learn as a freelancer (who's technically my own CEO) is what my dad has taught me: how to fire a client.

Financially, there are certain jobs I would have loved to stick with—but had to realize that, because of cost-benefit analysis, they would keep me from achieving my goals of success in the long run. Each time, it's been hard to quit because I'm not a quitter. But costs of living are higher, y'all. The "fire a client" framework helped me flip the narrative—thanks, Dad. And then finally, the book argues that I'm still chasing my bottom line, so casting away low-level pursuits that contribute to that is a necessary cull as part of the process.

My flexibility on lower-level commitments in sake of my genuine life dream has been necessary in giving me stability and confidence to take creative risks and invest in my own talent in the first place. Even then, grit doesn't exist in a vacuum. I am of course aware of the luck, privilege, and assistance from others as factors that have gotten me to this point.

I mostly think about grit in the context of my pursuit of a book deal, and my devotion to this blog, which turns 14 years old next April. But I also think about it in my physical activities (running half marathons, eventually running a full) and creative hobbies (learning multiple instruments, teaching myself various art forms, etc,.) I like having something physical to balance out my internal demands because the visceral challenge reminds me of my capacity to bear pain and what makes me stronger, etc,. etc,. It's a healthy balance.

I've read a lot recently about flow states and the pursuit of mastery, so am excited to build out a greater reading list centered around those ideals of pushing through past the "Oh, I'm so bad at this" stage. We are very sensitive to perceived criticism or failure, so part of developing grit is learning to be less self-conscious.

“Across these diverse occupations, grittier adults reported experiencing more flow, not less. In other words, flow and grit go hand in hand.”

“'It's all about in-the-moment self-awareness without judgement,' he continued. 'It's about relieving yourself of the judgment that gets in the way of enjoying the challenge.'”

I'd be curious about the relationship of perfectionism to grit, because I'd see myself as a gritty person regardless—but it took a lot of time and therapy for me to untangle the "achievement = success = deserving of love" arrows for myself. Which is kind of inverse to self-consciousness; my success was self-conscious, even though it was self-motivated too, because I wanted to prove myself worthy. Grit initially was a way I might get the approval I craved, but in finally separating myself out from that mindset, I guess I am finally overall much happier about my successes too without any of the mess?

According to Duckworth, grit also increases as you get older because we develop more capacity for long-term passion and perseverance and are better able to look past the flashy distractions of dopamine and novelty—which does make me think that I might be a little bit of a freak because I developed all of this at, like, age 13 (respectfully.) So I could get even more intense.

“Keep in mind, however, that a seventh grader—even a future paragon of grit—is unlikely to have a fully articulated passion at that age. A seventh grader is just beginning to figure out her general likes and dislikes.”

So maybe I can give myself a little prodigy credit? Because part of the reason this blog is so successful is because I wrote an essay in 7th grade that went mini-viral within the publishing industry about having a passion and knowing exactly what I wanted to chase. And that hasn't changed! All in all, I'm very lucky.

What's Most Worth Pursuing?

This was a section I really loved, because I think we probably all get it wrong. Angela Duckworth has conducted endless studies and collected tons of data on who outlasts others, and what their why is.

The conclusion her research ultimately came to is that it's not enough to want something for yourself. You have to have joy in the pursuit (or else it's really tough to achieve enough hours and focused effort for complete mastery) but that has to exist in combination with the genuine belief that your efforts make a positive difference for others.

The easiest goals to stick to are the ones that provide personal meaning for you and serve others. You have to chase interest and importance in tandem order to be able to stick it out, usually—that's the magic combination that lets you push yourself to your extremes.

On the tail end of considering books about how selflessness is secretly selfish because it makes us feel good (and are we ever actually authentic in our desires to help?), the data was a refreshing contrast. See! It's evolutionary. We're wired to be helpful and good.

A warning, however—Grit points out (a point emphasized by other recent reads of mine too like Paradox of Choice) that we are remarkably bad at prediction, and effort and consistency are really all we can count on. As The Molecule of More explains (more so in the context of relationships), passion eventually fades and leaves us with the pleasures of commitment instead.

“Grit paragons don't just discover something they enjoy and develop the interest—they also learn to deepen it.”

But the shift is hard for many, as it means sacrificing novelty for consistency—a more long-term pleasure, but without all the shiny bells and whistles. But the answer is in shifting to viewing nuance as novelty, which I'll explain below. (All my reads lately have been coinciding lately in a seriously perfect way.)

“You can't really predict with certainty what will capture your attention and what won't...All human beings, even from infancy, tend to look away from things they've already seen and instead, turn their gaze to things that are new and surprising. In fact, the word interest comes from the Latin interesse, which means 'to differ.' We are, by our natures, neophiles.”

“Interests must be triggered again and again. Find ways to make that happen. And have patience. Since novelty is what your brain craves, you'll be tempted to move onto something new, and that could be what makes the most sense [to you.] However, if you want to stay engaged...you'll need to find a way to appreciate the nuances.”

Failure Has Nothing to Do with It—on Longevity and Weakness and Burnout

The mistake we make in thinking about grit, Duckworth argues in the book, is that we assume having grit means that we do not fail. Instead, grit means putting yourself in the position to fail and be rejected, but still not giving up.

I'd also take it one step further and say that it's not only the capacity for failure that defines your individual grit, but whether or not the consequences of failure change your actual desire. Do you still pursue it as doggedly, or have you convinced yourself that you don't want something as much because it's hard to get?

“In a very real sense, they were satisfied being unsatisfied. Each was chasing something of unparalleled interest and importance, and it was the chase—as much as the capture—that was gratifying.”

Success on the first try is talent. Returning to succeed on the second is grit.

The person with grit isn't the natural talent who sails through all the challenges. (In Seal Team Six, a very off-brand read for me, Wasdin actually says the same: that he had infinite admiration for the guys who could not keep up with the challenges of BUD/S but kept going anyway, long past when the physically capable gave up and "rang the bell" to quit, even though they experienced daily punishments and reminders of failure.)

Some food for thought questions for you from Grit:

• How hard will you fight?
• What capacity do you have for a bruised ego?
• What, if anything, will dissuade you from what you know you need?
• At what point does achievement trump potential?

I've been so burnt out this year that I severely doubted whether or not I was a strong person. I've fallen apart several times, and trudged through the misery. But I ultimately get so much satisfaction from my commitment to what I believe "really matters" that it makes me much happier in the long run. It's not enough to be happy; we want to be fulfilled.

As Duckworth points out, "Talent is how quickly your skills improve when you invest effort. Achievement is what happens when you take your acquired skills and use them. Effort builds skill. At the very same time, effort makes skill productive. Effort counts twice."

BRB, writing effort counts twice on my mirror.

'Nuance Is Novelty' Is My New Favorite Phrase

In discussing mastery and commitment, Angela Duckworth brought up a phrase that will undoubtedly be my new favorite for the rest of forever: nuance is novelty. Masters are never bored, because they are constantly deepening and perfecting their level of detail. In other words, they are fundamentally curious and devoted to their pursuit.

This makes total sense to me as someone who realized in 2019 or so that flow states and sensory variation (deepening my experiences) were basically my two shortcuts to personal happiness and fulfillment. My curiosity benefits my writing and vice versa.

Curiosity, loyalty, courage, gratitude, and appreciation of excellence are a few of my most dominant traits according to testing, so it makes total sense that they all intersect to form the basis of grit. I sometimes feel guilty for being such an optimistic, hopeful person (or like it's feeding my delusion, because we have this idea of rationality as emotionless) but Duckworth makes an uplifting case for the role of hope in grit. We couldn't be gritty without it.

I wrote about my top-level goals for 2025 and my rough philosophy (as I can articulate it now) and all of these contribute to my clarity for the upcoming year.

I also personally loved the examples related to writing, which are obviously personally relevant to me. For me, writing is definitely in the rewriting, and as authors referenced in Grit explained, the confidence comes from knowing that you will go through it again and again and again until you get it right.

What Traits Are Adjacent to Grit?

Often, our personality traits exist in bundled little groups. The presence of one quality often indicates the presence of another. It's the same reason why positive frameworks and optimism generally create good, why good qualities and habits tend to have exponential positive effects within social circles, and even why participants in relationships can elevate each other to higher planes. One good leads to another, usually, so mining them is important. It's all self-fulfilling prophecy.

My top strengths intersect. Because everything I do is in service of my broader purpose, I have no need to misrepresent myself or be insecure about my values. When I commit to others, I am loyal and never stop caring about them. And then I'm very "what you see is what you get" in that I do believe (and hear from friends) I'm the same person to everyone. I have my little moody moments, sure, but am generally a consistent person in my intention.

I've read, romantically, that I should be more consciously mysterious to spark the hunter instinct or the chase—because all initial attraction is a result of dopamine activation, the wanting neurotransmitter. But I am fundamentally not manipulative. (I score super low on the Machiavellian index, if we're going by technicalities here.) I think I'm really fascinating, personally, and I do think it's kind of self-selecting in that if you have to play games to create something, it's not built on the mutual respect and friendship that I personally want from a relationship—so probably isn't meant for me anyway. I can waver on commitment and be nervous and stupid because I'm only human, but you're always just going to get me at face value. Heart on my sleeve or whatever.

“There are a lot of things where the subtleties and exhilarations come with sticking with it for a while, getting elbow-deep into something. A lot of things seem uninteresting and superficial until you start doing them and, after a while, you realize there are so many facets you didn't know at the start, and you can never fully solve the problem, or fully understand it, or what have you. Well, that requires that you stick with it.”

I try to approach everyone with a spirit of curiosity because I genuinely do believe that everyone has something to offer and can be endlessly interesting, and we're just not asking the right questions. (PS. I love this scene from Ted Lasso, cheesy or not. I used it in one of my blog anniversary posts to explain the philosophy behind Words Like Silver as an entity.)

I'm an introvert, so that openness isn't always obvious (and I do take a long time to open up), but I think the stamina to be a consistent person is important. Show up when you don't feel like it. Treat everyone like they're doing their best, and they will.

I've worked a lot on emotional evenness and detaching myself more from outcome, which has helped me dial in on who I want to be beyond what I do, which was probably crucial for dialing back my grit to a helpful level rather than a harmful one and defining how it reverberates throughout my life.

And then I am still devastated when I fail. But I get up anyway and keep going, which is the most important part. Recently, in the face of a truly exhausting year, I've realized that feeling weak and being weak are not actually the same. It's all what you do. (I truly apologize for sounding like a LinkedIn motivational poster right now. Sometimes life gets corny!)

Grit interacts nicely with autonomy and the expectations of self-efficacy, which so resonates with my reading list of late and conversations I was having this fall.

“One kind of hope...comes without the burden of responsibility. The onus is on the universe to make things better. Grit depends on a different kind of hope. It rests on the expectation that our own efforts can improve the future.”

Similarly, having grit myself does make me occasionally insensitive to others' lack of agency. I have very little patience for people who don't take agency for their own lives, or diffuse choices to a broader group because they're too passive to stand up for what they believe. That being said, I've built more grace and empathy for this because it's not always fair of me. As the book says, you can let people know that their limits on their potential do not exist, but you cannot ultimately force them to try.

On a somewhat funny note, I also had the realization recently that I've only ever seriously dated athletes. The grit and pursuit doth appeal. It's relatable to me, and conveys a tenacity that means we'd probably get along (and an appealing independence that means they have their own interests and can be our own people, just together.) They're probably not as afraid of me being "intense." There are for sure other domains and careers to which this applies, but athlete was an easy shortcut in high school and college. Beyond goodness and kindness, there is very little sexier to me than stubborn excellence and passion.

As a disciplined person myself, I like discipline and veer away from those who seem too indulgent, but I'm very much learning how to "be nicer" to myself too, so know that I hold myself to a ridiculous standard. There's a learning curve to giving yourself grace, I guess.

And now that I know grit is also defined by a belief that your life contributes to the good of others, I also see a lot of optimism in the presence of it too. Duckworth argues that grit is fundamentally a spirit of giving too, and I love this quote she references.

“There's no reserve in me—whatever I have, I'm willing to give to you or anyone else.”

So, I will write about optimism too, and the belief I'm slowly crystallizing that even if you get absolutely fucked over for it, it's still best and worthy and fulfilling to throw yourself into something and care.

“Given the opportunity to repeat their event [after failure], optimists did at least as well as their first attempt, but pessimists performed substantially worse...Optimists are just as likely to encounter bad events as pessimists. Where they diverge is in their explanations: optimists continually search for temporary and specific causes of their suffering, whereas pessimists assume permanent and pervasive causes are to blame.”

“When you keep searching for ways to make your situation for the better, you stand a chance of finding them. When you stop searching, assuming they won't be found, you assume they won't. Or, as Henry Ford is often quoted as saying, 'Whether you think you can, or think you can't—you're right.'”

Further Reading & Conclusion

I recently read and loved The Molecule of More which was all about our dopamine processing, and I'd be so curious whether gritty people have lower or higher dopamine levels. (I'm still cooking up my review, because I have a lot of thoughts on that one.) On one hand, dopamine is the "wanting" neurotransmitter so feeds our desire—which is why you might achieve something and feel empty, no matter how long you toiled.

So it could be very present in those who score high on grit, especially in relation to competition, traditional values of masculinity, etc,. But you could also argue that since dopamine is the pursuit of novelty and surprise, those high in grit may have lower levels instead because they know when to believe in something. Much to chew on.

Also, I feel like I've spent a lot of time this fall examining whether my conclusions to various scenarios are rational, and analyzing our reactions to feelings as a whole. (I find we have a tendency to equate rationality with lack of emotion when the entire truth is actually that we are all horribly irrational and we actually make better choices when in a positive mindset because we're not shying away from anticipated pain and regret. I will go back to cite that study when I am not sleepy.)

But the questions have circled regardless: Am I making the best decisions? Am I kidding myself? Am I being too stubborn? Can I trust what my gut tells me?

Or, my constant question, what is a healthy amount of hope to hold?

And Grit makes me feel a lot better about how much control we have.

PS. My next read definitely has to be Useful Delusions by Shankar Vedantam and Bill Mesler.

For fans of:

Endure by Alex Hutchinson; Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi; The Molecule of More by Daniel Z. Lieberman and Michael E. Long; Wanting by Luke Burgis; The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz; Me, Myself, and Us by Brian R. Little; Seal Team Six by Howard E. Wasdin; Atomic Habits by James Clear; An Anatomy of Pain by Dr. Abdul-Ghasliq Lalken; The Age of Magical Overthinking by Amanda Montell.

Personally, I'm not really a Ted Talk person or a podcast listener for that matter, but Angela Duckworth has a presentation on the subject if that's more your style.

And here is the Ted Lasso scene on curiosity, because I find it fundamentally heartwarming. At my core, I am not-so-secretly very earnest.