I have come to understand and appreciate writers much more

"I have come to understand and appreciate writers much more recently since I started working on a book last fall. Before that, I thought golf writers got up every morning, played a round of golf, had lunch, showed up for our last three holes and then went to dinner." These words from Phil Mickelson, the legendary golfer, reveal a profound shift in perspective—a recognition that the work of others, especially those whose craft seems far removed from our own, often carries with it a depth and complexity that goes unnoticed. Mickelson, through his experience with writing, begins to understand the invisible labor behind the creative process. His initial view of golf writing—a seemingly simple job of chronicling the day's events—shifts as he recognizes the depth of dedication, the intellectual effort, and the time that goes into crafting a well-rounded story or book.

In the ancient world, the lives of great writers like Homer, Sophocles, and Virgil were often misunderstood by those outside the intellectual circles. People believed that the poet’s work was effortless—simply the result of divine inspiration. Yet, the reality was much more complex. Homer, for instance, spent years crafting his epic tales, drawing from a deep well of knowledge and experience. His ability to weave together themes of heroism, destiny, and human frailty was not the result of a casual effort, but a sustained commitment to thoughtful reflection and deliberate composition. Writers, even in ancient times, were often misunderstood by the public, who believed their work was as easy as the stories they told. Mickelson’s own realization speaks to the timeless truth that every craft, no matter how unseen, requires immense effort and sacrifice.

When Mickelson speaks of golf writers who, from his previous perspective, seemed to simply play a round and show up at the last holes, he reflects a common misconception that many of us have about others' work—especially in creative fields. Athletes, like Mickelson, often face the same misunderstanding. From the outside, it appears that their job is simply to show up, play, and win. Yet behind every swing of the club, every moment of brilliance on the course, is a history of relentless practice, sacrifice, and mental fortitude. Hercules, that ancient hero of myth, was not born with strength and skill, but through years of training, discipline, and perseverance. His labors, like the labor of the writer, were grueling, demanding, and often invisible to those who only saw the moment of victory.

Mickelson’s words also underscore the importance of empathy and understanding. Before embarking on his own writing journey, he assumed the life of a golf writer was simple, even leisurely. However, as he dug deeper into the process, he recognized that there is craft in every word, every article, every book. Just as the athlete must train relentlessly for years to achieve greatness, the writer must also dedicate themselves to their craft. The act of writing—whether it’s chronicling sports or weaving the story of human emotions—requires a keen understanding of language, an ability to see beyond the surface, and the discipline to refine one’s thoughts and ideas into something meaningful and lasting. This understanding, then, becomes the lesson for us all: true mastery in any field requires both patience and a deep appreciation for the unseen labor that goes into the process.

Let us look to the story of Leonardo da Vinci, a man of many talents who, while celebrated for his paintings, also committed himself to extensive studies in engineering, anatomy, and physics. His work, though seemingly effortless to the viewer, was the result of endless hours of study and experimentation. Da Vinci did not simply create the Mona Lisa—he spent years observing, drawing, revising, and refining his craft. He dedicated his life not just to producing art but to understanding the very essence of human form and nature. Like Mickelson’s newfound respect for writers, Da Vinci came to see his own art as a reflection of something far greater than a mere skill—it was a lifelong pursuit of mastery, driven by an insatiable curiosity and a relentless desire to learn.

What can we learn from Mickelson's realization? The lesson is one of appreciation and humility. It reminds us that the work of others—whether it’s the writer, the artist, the athlete, or the philosopher—is often more difficult than it seems from the outside. To understand another’s craft fully, one must step into their shoes and experience the work firsthand. Just as Mickelson now appreciates the effort involved in writing, we, too, should seek to understand the effort behind the work of others. We must not fall into the trap of judging others’ work from a distance, assuming it is simple or effortless. Instead, we must recognize the time, effort, and sacrifice behind every achievement, no matter the field.

In practical terms, this means we should seek out opportunities to learn more about the unseen work that goes into the crafts we admire. Ask questions of those who create, whether they are writers, athletes, or artists, and be willing to listen to their stories of struggle, growth, and discipline. Understand that what you see on the surface is often just a fraction of the effort required to achieve greatness. As Mickelson learned from his own experience with writing, we must always be ready to challenge our assumptions, to expand our view, and to embrace empathy in all the paths of life we follow. By doing so, we honor not only the craft of others but also the truth that mastery in any field is earned through dedication, effort, and a willingness to learn.