In trying to come up with a grand unifying theory of performance anxiety, I proposed (at a talk I gave this summer) that the likelihood of its debilitating effects exist on the axes of two main components: preparation and self-concept.

I’ll be talking a whole lot about both of these in the coming months, and today’s post is something of an overview of the disparate elements that come together to create the right kind of practice.

So here they are: the four elements I feel contribute to excellent practice.

Each of these will have their own lengthier post, so just peruse these concepts at arms’ length and see how they line up with your thinking.

Quality is something I see truly lacking in most students. Even among people who have already come to the conclusion that repeating a piece over and over is not the most efficient way forward, many players replace one low quality method for another: picking themselves to pieces rather than working from a set of ideals for which to strive.

This one is subtle, but important. The idea is to see whatever you’re working on as a piece of a larger task: honing yourself as a musician.

Most students who are struggling are not honest. There is a real hesitance to look unflinchingly at the task at hand, but when we fail to do so, we only harm ourselves. Everyone else can see what we’re doing and not doing. Denial does not preserve dignity, and honesty does not always end in hopelessness. Honesty requires you to know, intimately, what you’re good at, for instance. When you’re good at something, you don’t have to work at that so much any more. You can turn your attention to other things that are not so well in hand. I think many people are overly harsh towards themselves as a sort of reflex: that perhaps we might insulate ourselves from shame if only we find fault with everything. Of course, that means you’re still not seeing your playing clearly, so the despair continues.

This is just about ethic more than anything. I tell all of my students: playing something correctly is the beginning of practice, not the end. When an Olympic figure skater nails a tricky jump for the first time, she sets about making it part of her; repeating it until it is unassailable. Too often, victory is followed promptly by moving on. It is not reveling in victory to repeat that which you have newly learned. Is if the essence of skill to do exactly that.