If I'm working on a film, I'll do sit-ups for before I shoot.

“If I’m working on a film, I’ll do sit-ups for before I shoot. Like, 100 in the morning or something.” Thus spoke James Franco, an actor known for his restless creativity, his tireless pursuit of many crafts, and his willingness to discipline himself for the sake of his art. At first glance, the words may appear light, even trivial: an actor preparing his body with mere exercises before stepping onto a set. Yet hidden within this confession lies a deeper truth—that greatness is born not in grand gestures alone, but in the humble rhythm of daily discipline. The sit-ups are more than a ritual for the body; they are a symbol of readiness, of respect for the craft, of preparation before stepping into the arena.

The origin of this quote lies in the world of cinema, where the camera sees not only performance but also presence. Franco, like actors before him, understood that to inhabit a role one must prepare not only the mind but also the body. The sit-ups become a ritual of sharpening, a way of telling oneself: I am ready, I have taken the first step, I honor this moment with effort. In such small acts of discipline, the spirit is steeled for the greater performance. Thus, what seems ordinary is, in truth, an invocation—a morning offering to the gods of art.

The ancients, too, exalted the discipline of preparation. The gladiator did not enter the arena without training his body at dawn. The philosopher did not address the assembly without rehearsing his arguments in solitude. Even the poet, before reciting his verses, would invoke the Muse with ritual words. Each act of greatness was preceded by humble repetitions, by small labors unseen by the crowd. So too, Franco’s hundred sit-ups are not vanity, but a reminder that art demands sacrifice, and that sacrifice begins in the quiet moments before the spotlight.

History gives us many such examples. Consider Bruce Lee, who trained not for applause but for discipline, who honed his body with endless repetitions so that when the moment of performance arrived, his actions flowed like water. Or consider athletes of the Olympics, who rise each morning for years to prepare for a contest that may last only minutes. Their greatness is not measured only in the final display, but in the countless hidden rituals that prepared them for it. In the same way, Franco’s simple morning routine stands as a metaphor: greatness is built in the unseen hours.

From this we learn a lesson both humbling and empowering: small acts of discipline create great results. The world often praises talent, charisma, or genius, but behind every shining moment lies repetition, preparation, and persistence. Sit-ups may seem small, but they are an emblem of larger truths—readiness, self-respect, and devotion to one’s calling. Each morning discipline, however minor, builds not only the body but the will, and the will is the foundation of all achievement.

Practical wisdom flows from this. Whatever your craft, find your “sit-ups.” They may not be literal exercises, but small, daily rituals that prepare you for the day’s labor. A writer may sharpen their mind with morning notes. A teacher may review their lessons before the first bell. A leader may begin with quiet reflection before facing the world’s noise. These humble practices are not distractions but the very seeds of greatness. For in preparing yourself each morning, you honor not only your craft but your own potential.

Thus, remember Franco’s words: “I’ll do sit-ups before I shoot.” They are more than the habits of an actor; they are a parable for all who strive. They remind us that preparation is sacred, that discipline is the quiet foundation upon which greatness stands. Do not wait for destiny to crown you—prepare yourself daily, faithfully, even in the small things. For when the moment of performance arrives, it will be those unseen sit-ups, those hidden rituals of discipline, that will allow you to stand strong, ready, and unafraid before the eyes of the world.