Downplaying Effort
I recently watched a reel of Timothée Chalamet's speech during an award ceremony, and his words struck a chord with me. He said:
"I know the classiest thing would be to downplay the effort that went into this role and how much this means to me, but the truth is, this was five and a half years of my life. I poured everything I had... I can't downplay the significance of this award because it means the most to me. I know we are in a subjective business, but the truth is, I'm really in pursuit of greatness. I know people don't usually talk like that, but I want to be one of the greats. I'm inspired by the greats... and I want to be up there."
Hearing those words left a dent in my heart––no, they shattered it. They reminded me of the fire I once had, the spark that drove me years ago.
Back in 2020, I had an epiphany: I wanted to see how far I could go. I wanted to challenge myself, to attempt what once seemed impossible.
I set out to become Valedictorian.
That summer, I meticulously planned everything. My study schedule started at 7:00 AM and ended around noon. Afternoons were dedicated to reading self-help books. I was relentless in my pursuit. Every week, I jogged in the early mornings. I absorbed every piece of advice from successful people and sought ways to integrate them into my life.
For homework and projects, I pushed myself beyond my perceived limits. I lived by the motto: "Good enough isn't good enough if it could be better, and better isn't good enough if it could be best."
Even when I felt I had exhausted all my thoughts in an essay, I would step back and consider how others might approach it. If someone else could bring a fresh perspective, surely, I could too. So, I would think longer, dig deeper, until a new idea emerged.
I poured everything I had into achieving perfect scores––not to compete with anyone else, but to compete against the standard itself. In my mind, the best way to secure the Valedictorian title was to aim for perfection in every test, homework, and project.
Beyond personal ambition, I also wanted to prove that success wasn’t exclusive to the naturally gifted. I wasn’t a top-ranking student before. I doubted myself plenty of times. Yet, I wanted to show that with effort, anything was possible.
After two years of relentless effort, I achieved my goal––I became Valedictorian.
It was an even greater surprise that our batch had two Valedictorians, a first in our school’s history. We were tied down to the third decimal point. That other Valedictorian eventually became my best friend.
We often talked about our journeys. I would recount the late nights, the endless studying, and the sheer willpower it took to achieve my goal. I shared the meticulous planning, the sacrifices, the passion.
For him, it was the opposite.
He claimed it all came naturally––he never really prepared or studied much. He was effortlessly intelligent and saw it all as easy.
I admired him. But I was also taken aback.
Back then, I had read Carol Dweck’s Growth Mindset, my favorite book at the time. It emphasized that effort is everything––that talent isn’t innate, but developed. That growth is a matter of perseverance. So, when I heard a perspective that downplayed effort, I was surprised. I admired my friend, but I clung to what I had learned.
Yet, something changed in me.
I have this tendency to absorb the habits, values, and mindset of those around me. Slowly, I began downplaying my efforts. I thought it was "cool" to act as if success required no struggle. Eventually, that belief rippled into my approach to life. I stopped putting as much effort into things, convinced that effort itself was unnecessary.
I thought that was how it should be––that everything should come easily. That true brilliance meant proving you were naturally gifted, a born genius.
Now, I regret that mindset.
Nothing excites me the way it once did. My goals and dreams feel distant. I no longer see the value of effort. I still cherish people and love them deeply, but my drive to change the world, to build something meaningful, to lift others from poverty, to inspire millions–that spark has dimmed. (But not for long! I'm working on reversing it, and I know I'll get back there someday.)
I once aspired to be like the visionaries I admired––Steve Jobs, Warren Buffett, Bill Gates. People who reshaped industries, who left indelible marks on the world.
How I wish I could tell my younger self to keep going. To embrace the beauty of effort. To show others that success wasn’t a gift, but a product of relentless determination. That nothing was truly impossible.
Steve Jobs once said, "Everything around you that you call life was made up by people that were no smarter than you, and you can change it, you can influence it..." How I wish I had held onto that belief—that no one is simply born extraordinary.
If I could go back, I would tell my younger self: Effort is good. Caring about something is good. Showing others the fruits of your labor is admirable.
In today’s world, many believe that effortless success is the ultimate achievement. But in truth, mastery begins with effort. Even those who seem to achieve with ease have put in countless unseen hours of practice.
I don’t blame anyone for my shift in mindset. It was my own choice to embrace a different perspective, to let go of the values that once defined me. Maybe my bestfriend had good intentions. Maybe he just wanted to sound cool. And perhaps he will never hear my thoughts on this. But I do wish I had been more mindful of how easily I let external influences shape my beliefs.
So, to those who downplay effort: maybe it worked for you. Maybe you’ve already put in the work before. But be mindful of the influence you have. Some, like myself years ago, might take your words to heart and lose their way.
It’s easy to be drawn to the illusion of effortlessness. But climbing out of the hole it leaves you in? That’s much harder.
Looking back, all the effort I put in was worth it. And I regret letting myself forget that. Nonetheless, I know now: effort is what truly makes success meaningful.