If you watch even just a few interviews with celebrities and sports legends, you're bound to uncover one of the great contradictions of the motivational world: that everyone who has risen to the top of their field claims to be “the hardest worker in the room.” From Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson to Will Smith to Ultimate Fighting Champion Conor McGregor, every one of them will tell you, “I'll die before I'm outworked.” Well, for the sake of our culture and entertainment, let's hope all three of them are never training in the same room. All kidding aside, the point is that, for anyone who wants to make a major impact along the lines of Oprah, Mother Theresa, or that incredible kindergarten teacher at your child's school, a strong work ethic is required.

Nature versus Nurture

While there are many areas in my life where I do not feel naturally gifted, I was blessed with a relatively strong work ethic right out of the womb. Some of my earliest memories involve a fascination with chipping away at a task or skill in order to reach a goal that was not within my immediate grasp. This is not to say that I didn't enjoy lying around watching movies or daydreaming as a child, but I'm guessing that if you asked anyone who has known me throughout the various stages of my life, they'd bring up my work ethic pretty early in the conversation. Not only did my work ethic feel like it was in the fabric of my DNA, it was also honed by parents who were first-generation Americans and grandparents who told me stories of making the transition from Italy to the United States and then weathering the Great Depression. There were so many stories about sacrificing now in order to benefit later that somehow it all seeped into my subconscious.

Friend and former 10,000 NOs podcast guest Bedros Keuilian coined the term “the immigrant edge” to describe how his humble roots give him an advantage now. His father risked a lot to get the Keuilian family out from under Soviet rule to the freedom of the United States. But just being in America did not mean their troubles were gone. When he was young, Keuilian would be hoisted up into dumpsters behind grocery stores by his father to scrounge for food that had been thrown away after its official expiration date. He credits his success as an entrepreneur to his identification with the honey badger, an animal known for its ability to work feverishly and single-mindedly in pursuit of food and whatever else it needs. Those qualities, he says, came from growing up with less than everyone around him and having parents who taught him the value of hard work.

If you did not have that kind of influence, the good news is that work ethic can be learned, trained, and coaxed out of its dark cave if you have the right piece of meat to lure it. This point may be best illustrated by 10,000 NOs guest Terry Knickerbocker's journey. Knickerbocker, an acting teacher with his own studio in Brooklyn, New York, is known for guiding actors like Sam Rockwell into Oscar-winning performances. The signature quality cited by Knickerbocker's students, clients, and employees is his incredibly detailed and dedicated work ethic. But earlier in his life, he was a self-described underachiever who would get high all the time beginning in the ninth grade. His appetite for work was only whetted when he discovered his passion for acting. He began to get roles, but soon realized his raw talent would only take him so far.

“I didn't know what the hell I was doing, but I kept on getting these parts. I realized I reached a plateau here and I needed to train.”

—Terry Knickerbocker, Acting Coach

Prior to being considered one of the best acting coaches in a highly competitive industry, Knickerbocker failed out of Boston University. It was not a lack of ability or intelligence that cut his undergraduate studies short. It was a failure to show up to class that undid him. Regardless of the size of your talent or your natural-born abilities, if you fail to work hard or to do so consistently, you will never reach your potential. You may get by. You may even excel in comparison to your competition. But you will never be able to look yourself in the eye with the pride that comes from knowing you gave it your all.

“You can be like Jack Horner and chisel a plum

And think you're a wonderful guy.

But the Man in the Glass says you're only a bum

If you can't look him square in the eye.”

—“The Guy in the Glass,” Dale Wimbrow

Passion and interest certainly play a part in consistently chipping away at a goal for long periods of time. But something that I think may be overlooked by many, which is the key to increasing a strong work ethic, is the mindset that usually accompanies this process. Contrary to what many people may believe, almost every high achiever known for their incredible work ethic developed it because a voice inside their head told them that their God-given talent on its own was not good enough to get them to where they wanted to be.

“We are not particularly well-spoken, we are not particularly good-looking, we are not particularly intelligent, we are … generally speaking a B-minus across the board, and yet we just fucking killed ourselves, and worked our asses off and found a way to push that boulder up the mountain. And I think people look at us, and rightfully so, and they think, ‘If those guys can do it, I think anybody can do this.’”

—Mark Duplass, Filmmaker and Actor, on the massive success he and his brother have had in Hollywood circumnavigating the system

The fact that these people have accomplished so much, and are many times rewarded with prestigious accolades or larger-than-average financial rewards, has caused others to incorrectly deduce that these people were just born “better than the rest of us.” Someone watching a highlight reel of NBA star Steph Curry draining three-pointer buzzer-beaters in high-pressure games might think he's just a more naturally gifted shooter than the majority of his basketball counterparts. While he does possess an enormous amount of athletic ability, the painstaking detail and consistency that goes into his daily shooting regimen is well-known and something he often speaks about. A similar narrative carries across all industries, whether we are talking about an athlete, actor, comedian, CEO, or politician. These superstars' work ethics are their common thread, like an insurance policy against chance and mere talent.

Getting to Know Fear

Let's break down the psychology of a strong work ethic. Bumper stickers abound spouting slogans like “No Fear.” But perhaps my friend and former podcast guest Tony Blauer has it more accurate with his own company, Know Fear. Blauer is one of the world's top self-defense experts, having trained scores of Tier One Operators (a.k.a. Navy SEALs, Army Rangers, etc.) as well as housewives and everyday citizens. His philosophy is that, rather than stick our heads in the sand pretending we are safe, we need to familiarize ourselves with fear. We need to be incredibly aware of our surroundings and the potential for danger at any time, whether it be from an assailant on the street or a car in an oncoming traffic lane. Blauer teaches that it is only in leaning into the fear and sadness of losing one's loved ones that people are motivated to take the proper precautions to reduce the chances of that happening. Fear, in this case, becomes the motivator that signs us up to get the training necessary to protect ourselves and our families. That training and awareness can be considered “good work ethic” within the realm of self-defense.

As an actor, I know fear every time I'm on a new set in a new role. My consistent training has reduced this fear. And over time, my experience has provided me examples that I can draw from, of times where I have overcome my fear in the past, which helps me to keep it in check. But new environments can bring new challenges that sometimes make me feel like I'm starting all over again. When I was young and I'd hear a legendary actor like Gene Hackman wonder if he was ever going to work again once he wrapped a film, I thought it was an insincere ploy for sympathy. But now, as a consistently working actor myself, I finally understand his statement. The years have taught me that I can never predict what is coming next. Likewise, on a new set with new players and material, a fear that I won't have what it takes to hack it can sometimes creep into my psyche. My specific career, where much of my work has consisted of extended stints on other people's shows, has brought this challenge up for me repeatedly.

The West Wing Experience

One of these intimidating stints was on The West Wing. While I was eventually cast as Bram Howard, the advance man of Jimmy Smits's Matt Santos character, toward the end of season 6, I had auditioned for a different role two years prior. For that audition, I had made it far enough to eventually read with the show's creator, Aaron Sorkin. Despite having had a nice run on The Sopranos a few years before this, I was a bit scared. The tip from the casting director before I walked into the room was that Sorkin liked it fast, so I would need to pick up my cues and keep the pace at a fast clip. While I wouldn't have considered myself a loyal fan of The West Wing at the time, I had seen enough episodes to know that virtually every character was hyper-articulate and prone to slinging polysyllabic political jargon while marching through the maze-like halls of the West Wing or hotel corridors at a brisk pace—these “walk and talks” quickly became a hallmark of the show and a feature used by many shows since. It was intimidating, to say the least.

On top of this, while I consider myself to be an intelligent human, I have never been particularly astute when it comes to politics. With an exorbitant amount of preparation, however, I was able to successfully make it through my reading with Sorkin. Knowing that there were only a few other actors in the running, coupled with the fact that they were looking to “cast an unknown” in this role, I actually walked out of that room believing I had a legitimate shot. I was wrong. Rather than offering the role to me or one of the other handful of “unknowns,” they gave it to Matthew Perry, who was fresh off of the smash hit Friends. Such is Hollywood. I was forced to chalk it up as another of my 10,000 “no”s when Perry eventually won an Emmy for his performance.

Two years later, in 2005, while temporarily in Los Angeles attempting to score a series regular role on a new show during pilot season (the time of year when pilots, a.k.a. first episodes of a new series, are being cast for the following season of TV), I went in again for what was advertised as a one-off guest star role on The West Wing. Again, there was a mountain of political jargon to climb, and my fear of flubbing it helped me to prepare for the audition enough that I was eventually chosen for the role. Ironically, I remember feeling worse coming out of that room than I did after the Sorkin audition two years before. (How an actor feels about their audition does not always correlate to whether or not they get the job.)

Getting the gig was a victory considering the pedigree of the show. But when I went to my first fitting, I picked up an inside scoop from a member of the wardrobe department, who eventually became a friend, that raised the stakes for me considerably. He told me that my storyline was part of a new direction on the show that involved the campaign trail for Jimmy Smits's character, Matt Santos, running for President. John Wells, who had since taken the reins of the show from Aaron Sorkin, was apparently using these guest spots as a way to audition actors for a potentially longer stint on the show. In essence, my new confidante was telling me, “Don't eff it up!”

Nobody Walks on the Hill!

John Hurley, my freshman football coach, ended the first practice of our ninth grade season by surprising the team with an order to take a lap around a tree that was perched atop a very steep hill that sloped down to our practice field. Mistakenly assuming we were done caused me to get a late jump on the run and, having hustled my butt off for the previous two hours, I struggled and came in almost dead last. I specifically remember thinking that maybe I wasn't cut out for this level of play and eighth grade football was my limit. But I stuck it out, stayed around, and had a good season. Building on that freshman year, I had three more good seasons, playing through the end of high school. I also quickly learned Coach Hurley's most famous catchphrase, “Nobody walks on the hill!” He was referring to that steep hill we had to climb after that first practice. Every time we ascended it, from that first practice on, it was drilled into our heads that we could not walk it. Instead, no matter how tired we might be, we had to sprint up.

“Nobody walks on the hill!” is a mantra I still use with my kids to this day. In fact, I use it myself for everything from motivation in the gym to prep work for roles to my overall daily hustle. It was front of my mind my first day on The West Wing, when I was called to set. They were finishing a scene in a school classroom before we moved on to my first scene. That's where I first met Bradley Whitford. I had seen his work on the show, and his combination of flawless machine-gun-fire dialogue combined with his loose-as-a-goose vibe was frighteningly good. I was also aware at this point that he had won an Emmy Award, among many other accolades, for his portrayal of Josh Lyman. On top of this, I was aware that all of my scenes in this episode consisted of me leading the charge down hallways. My character was driving the action and dialogue while flanked by actors whose work I knew, who had also been on the show far longer than me: Whitford, Smits, Teri Polo, and Janeane Garofalo, among others.

But that fear, of being the guy who comes in and turns out to be the fly in the ointment, actually saved me. Knowing that preparation and work ethic were my best weapons against the nerves associated with a high-stakes gig, I threw myself into the prep as soon as I was cast. With limited time for the in-depth research that I'd eventually do, I ran the scenes over and over, drilling the lines frontward, backward, and sideways. I'd run the scenes while I was driving, at the gym, walking around … in an Irish accent, a Southern accent … anything I could do so that I didn't have to think about lines at all once we got rolling. I thought about my character's relationship to the candidate, Matt Santos, and to the other characters as well as to the campaign itself. On my first day on the show, and all through that episode, “La Palabra,” I never faltered. I was prepared, but not overconfident. Other actors, even ones I admired so much, had moments that caused us to have to cut, but I did not.

To be clear, acting is not about memorizing your lines. In my opinion, the best acting takes place between the lines. Great acting is great listening. And there are many times when, as long as you're exploring during a take, you can go up on your lines and have to stop the scene and still have usable material in that take. But an actor is usually only allowed that freedom once they are known, trusted, and have proven themselves to the director and other actors. When you're a rookie on the set, you do not want to be that person, particularly on a show that involves long and winding walk-and-talks with a Steadicam. While there was not much particularly emotional heavy lifting required of me in that first episode, my work ethic helped me prove to them that I might be an asset to the cast.

I was asked back to The West Wing two episodes later in the season 6 finale, and invited to the end-of-year wrap party. As I was leaving the party to head back to the East Coast, Executive Producer and Director Alex Graves said, “We'll see you at the end of the summer.” I said, “Can you put that in writing?” They called my reps over the summer, guaranteeing me three out of the first five episodes in season 7, and that led to me being a significant player in what turned out to be the show's last season. I stuck around all the way through the series finale, in which my character got his own office in the West Wing.

My talent helped me in my West Wing experience, but I credit most of that run to my work ethic. I also credit my belief in Coach Hurley's mantra, “Nobody walks on the hill!” My healthy dose of fear, which served as a motivator, was also key. The West Wing material I was given did not exactly allow me to truly stretch my acting muscles. But, much like my time on The Sopranos, which you'll hear about in another chapter, it continues to help me score jobs to this day because it was such a high-pedigree and culturally relevant television show.

“Driving to auditions that are anywhere from six to eight hours away, maybe even sometimes twice a week. So, you're living in Atlanta, but you're driving to New Orleans for auditions. I'm talking one-liners. When you talk about the grind. When you talk about work ethic. When you talk about being committed. That's where you learn because you are grateful.”

—Melissa Ponzio, Actor, Teen Wolf, Chicago Fire

When I reflect upon work ethic, I often think of a famous quote from Robert De Niro's directorial debut, A Bronx Tale. After his character's son asks him if he has talent, De Niro tells the kid he has all the talent in the world. This prompts the boy to ask if he can be a pro baseball player someday. De Niro responds, “The saddest thing in life is wasted talent.” He adds that the rest is up to working hard and doing “the right thing.” In an ironic and sad twist of life imitating art, the actor Lillo Brancato, who played the boy, a total natural who was capable of going toe-to-toe with legends like De Niro and Chazz Palminteri, got mixed up with drugs later in life. He and a friend got involved with a burglary that resulted in an off-duty police officer being shot and killed. He served eight years in prison, with his life as he knew it forever changed. Talent is not worth much if it isn't attached to work ethic and values.