The Art of Work

The Art of Work Plot Summary

Introduction

Eric Miller skipped a company meeting to watch his five-year-old son play T-ball. During the game, he noticed his son Garrett was having trouble balancing and placing the ball on the tee. A doctor's visit and CT scan later revealed devastating news: Garrett had a golf-ball-sized brain tumor. The surgery to remove it left the boy blind, mute, and paralyzed. Doctors gave him only a 50% chance of surviving the next five years. In that moment of crisis, Eric had an epiphany: "We needed to be living life all of the time. Because none of us are guaranteed that we're going to be around an hour or two from now." This realization transformed their approach to life. One year to the day after Garrett's surgery, the father-son duo crossed the finish line of their first triathlon together—Eric running behind his son, pushing his wheelchair. Fourteen years later, Garrett has completed a half Ironman, climbed Machu Picchu, and earned the rank of Eagle Scout. Their story illuminates a profound truth about finding purpose: a calling is not some carefully crafted plan. It emerges when plans go awry, when we must make meaning from unexpected circumstances. The path to meaningful work rarely looks like a carefully crafted roadmap; instead, it resembles a journey of responding to what life presents us, transforming obstacles into opportunities.

Chapter 1: Recognizing Your Life's Whispers: Awareness in Unexpected Places

Jody Noland navigated the busy halls of Emory Hospital to visit her friend Larry Elliott, who had recently been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Larry, a successful insurance businessman, had sold his business to serve children in need before this devastating diagnosis. As Jody entered his hospital room, she found it overflowing with visitors—Larry had touched countless lives. Before his surgery, Larry asked his wife for pen and paper. He wanted to write letters to each of his children, expressing his love and affirming what made each child special. The letters provided immense comfort to his family after he lost his battle with cancer nine months later. That same year, Jody lost two other friends in their forties without warning. Thinking of Larry's letters and the comfort they provided his family, she began sharing his story with others. "Don't you think this is something we should all do for the people we love?" she would ask. Many responded, "Yes, but I'm not a writer," or "Yes, but I have no idea where to begin." Jody realized that what seemed easy to her was difficult for others. Eventually, she established Leave Nothing Unsaid, a program helping people write meaningful letters to loved ones. In 2009, tragedy struck Jody's own life when her husband Mike was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer. Despite her pleading, Mike refused to write letters to his children, denying the seriousness of his condition. After his death, his daughter Nancy asked if he had written any letters like the ones Jody had helped others write. Devastated by her failure to convince her husband, Jody nearly abandoned her letter-writing workshops. A year later, however, a dying mother used Jody's workbook to write letters to her daughters, finding peace in her final weeks. Jody realized that her true fear shouldn't be of failing, but of failing to answer her calling. "I would rather go for it and fail than not try," she said. At fifty-eight, Jody finally understood how her life had been converging for decades on this very moment. She was doing what she was born to do, and although the circumstances were painful, she learned an important lesson: all along, her life was teaching her something, even through pain. Had she not paid attention, she might have missed it entirely. What we often don't realize is that making our story about us, even about our pain, is the wrong approach. Life is too short to waste time on things that don't matter. What we all want is to know our time on earth has meant something. As Viktor Frankl discovered through his experiences in concentration camps, humans don't primarily seek pleasure—they seek meaning. When we embrace pain rather than avoid it, we often discover our calling in unexpected places.

Chapter 2: Learning from Unlikely Mentors: The Accidental Apprenticeship Journey

Getting pregnant at twenty-three was possibly the worst thing that could have happened to Ginny Phang. As a Singaporean, having a baby out of wedlock meant facing intense social stigma. Her boyfriend demanded she get an abortion, even offering to help her start a business afterward. Her mother gave her an ultimatum: terminate the pregnancy or move out. Minutes before she was to take the abortion pill, Ginny's aunt called. "Flush the pills," she said. "We will help you. We don't know how, but we will help you." These were the words Ginny needed to hear. She kept her baby, moved in with her grandfather, and prepared to become a mother. During her delivery, she realized "how important it is to be supported, to have someone believe in you and protect you—how important it is to keep women safe." After the birth, Ginny returned to her secretarial job, which provided stability but left her unfulfilled. She started an online business educating mothers about breastfeeding, a practice uncommon in Singapore. Through this venture, she met Amy, an Australian Chinese woman working as a doula in Singapore. One night, Amy told Ginny, "You will make a good doula." Ginny took a doula training class, and when attending her first birth, she panicked momentarily but then let her instincts take over. She massaged the mother's back and offered reassurance throughout the experience. Afterward, the mother credited Ginny for how relaxed and easy the delivery felt. "It was exhilarating," Ginny recalled, "like slipping into an old pair of shoes." When her boss discovered her newfound passion, he gave her an ultimatum: choose between her stable job or her doula work. Taking a leap of faith, Ginny chose the latter. Ten years later, Ginny runs Four Trimesters, the largest doula business in Singapore with seven employees. Her story defies the myth of the self-made person. Though undoubtedly strong and determined, Ginny would be the first to admit she didn't succeed alone. From her aunt who encouraged her to keep her baby, to Amy who recognized her potential as a doula, to the filmmaker who became her roommate and helped with her business, Ginny's journey demonstrates how finding one's calling rarely happens in isolation. The traditional apprenticeship system required at least seven years working under a master before a person could venture out on their own. While formal apprenticeships have largely disappeared, "accidental apprenticeships" occur throughout our lives. Every success story is actually a story of community. Some people help us willingly, while others contribute unknowingly to our education. The challenge isn't finding these mentors but recognizing them when they appear—often in unexpected places, at precisely the moments when we need guidance most.

Chapter 3: The Pain and Perseverance of Deliberate Practice

Stephanie Fisher had traveled 777 miles from her hometown of Jamestown, New York, to Augusta, Georgia for her seventh American Idol audition. The twenty-three-year-old college graduate with degrees in biochemistry and communication studies felt this might be her last chance at stardom. "I only have four more years of entertainment in my life," she told a local newspaper, "and if I have the opportunity to do it, I might as well take that." Dressed in a sequined top and fishnet stockings, she stepped before the judges and began singing Peggy Lee's "Fever." The judges quickly stopped her, unimpressed. Simon Cowell didn't mince words: "With the greatest respect, you have a horrible voice." When Stephanie asked if she could have a few minutes to get less nervous, Simon replied, "We'd need years, Stephanie." Despite her persistent attempts and seven auditions, the reality was clear—she simply wasn't performing at the level required. Yet this story becomes more complicated when we consider musicians like Hillary Scott, who auditioned for American Idol twice and failed to make it to the judges' round both times, then went on to form the Grammy-winning group Lady Antebellum. Or Colbie Caillat, who was rejected twice on American Idol but later sold millions of albums. Caillat even admitted the judges were right to reject her: "I was shy. I was nervous. I didn't look the greatest. I wasn't ready for it yet. I was glad, when I auditioned, that they said no." Her failure made her better. Research by psychologist K. Anders Ericsson suggests that what we often attribute to natural talent is actually the result of deliberate practice. This isn't just any kind of practice, but a specific type that leads to expert performance. Deliberate practice requires three elements: First, it needs context—time, energy, and resources. Second, it must not be inherently motivating—if it's enjoyable, you aren't growing. Third, it must take you to the point of exhaustion. As Tom Hanks says in A League of Their Own, "It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great." When Martyn Chamberlin, a young web developer, first started building websites, he had no formal training. Growing up as an artist who painted and played guitar, he never imagined spending his days staring at a computer screen. After his brother gave him a book on web design, Martyn began creating websites, first as a hobby and then professionally. The skills he acquired as an artist—color theory, composition, and design principles—transferred seamlessly to web development. "Something just clicked," he recalled. The journey to mastery often reveals this paradox: we discover our calling through difficult work that stretches us beyond comfort, yet somehow feels right. If you can persevere through an activity when it's no longer fun, when you're exhausted and want to give up, then it might be your calling. The combination of natural aptitude and deliberate practice creates the foundation for meaningful work. Your willingness to embrace painful practice might be the best indication that you've found something worth pursuing.

Chapter 4: Building Bridges Not Leaps: Finding Direction Through Action

Ben and Kristy Carlson knew they needed a change. Their "journey of discovery" led them from South Africa, where they had been doing leadership development, to Burundi, East Africa, where they became social entrepreneurs. When they decided to move to Burundi to start a coffee business, they had no exposure to the French language or Burundian culture. "Ben and I joke that we've only been in Burundi for two and a half years, but it feels like ten because of the steep learning curve," Kristy wrote. What drove them to make such a dramatic change? Passion. "I can wake up, drink and talk about coffee all day long and not get tired," Ben said in an interview. "When I started realizing that, I started realizing that this was what I wanted to do. This was who I wanted to be." However, when asked if they knew this was the right decision, Kristy admitted they didn't. "We were leaping, and it was a gangly, imperfect, headlong kind of leap at that. We felt strongly that it was time for a change, but our decision to incorporate Burundi into that change was based solely on the presence of an opportunity." This contradicts the common myth about finding one's calling—that "you just know" when you've found it. This idea creates a false expectation that a calling arrives as a neatly wrapped package on your doorstep. In reality, discovering your purpose resembles building a bridge more than taking a leap. The Carlsons didn't have perfect clarity; they simply took action when opportunity presented itself. Consider the biblical story of Samuel, who as a young boy heard a voice calling his name in the night. Thinking it was his teacher Eli, Samuel went to him three times before Eli realized God was calling the boy. Samuel's experience demonstrates that clarity comes through a series of deliberate decisions rather than a sudden revelation. Finding your calling isn't a mystical process but an intensely practical one that requires action despite uncertainty. The path to purpose unfolds in stages. First, you hear the call, which may come as a whisper or persistent feeling. Second, you respond through concrete action, not just words. Third, you begin to believe, discovering that you've been preparing for this work your whole life, even if you feel unprepared in the moment. This process involves small, intentional steps rather than a single dramatic leap. "It was never a question of if. It was always a matter of when," wrote a spouse to their partner who had just realized a long-held dream. This sentiment captures the essence of finding one's calling—it's not about whether you'll discover your purpose, but when you'll recognize what's been there all along, waiting to be uncovered through decisive action rather than passive waiting.

Chapter 5: Pivot Points: How Failures Shape Your Path Forward

Matt McWilliams always assumed he would become a golf pro. Born near "The Cradle of American Golf" in North Carolina, he followed in his father's footsteps, winning numerous tournaments in high school and college. His confidence in golf as his future was so strong that he didn't bother to graduate. After playing professionally for a year, however, an acute pain in his wrist forced him to reconsider. Diagnosed with tendonitis, he faced a choice: undergo surgery or cut back on golf. He chose the latter, realizing he didn't want to play as badly as he thought. With no clear direction, Matt began working for his father at Knollwood Fairways. While there, he discovered a talent for online marketing, staying up late building websites and advertising campaigns. On July 1, 2003—the day after his birthday—his father let him go. This was the first time Matt got fired. The next year, he divided his time between a political campaign and consulting clients, further honing his marketing skills. When the campaign ended, Matt joined his friend's new company generating insurance leads. By 2007, the company had grown to forty employees and over twelve million dollars in annual revenue. Matt, however, had developed an ego problem. Known for being a perfectionist who would "tear into you for the slightest infraction," he created so much "carnage" around the office that the owners asked him to leave. This second firing came just fifteen days before his wedding. After taking six months off, Matt joined a company selling instructional DVDs, where he won an Affiliate Manager of the Year award. He eventually left to return to his first employer, only to be laid off nine months later—this time notified by a private detective at his front door. Now Matt lives in Fort Wayne, Indiana, running his consulting business wherever his clients are. His story demonstrates how failure can lead to finding one's true calling. "It was the second best thing that ever happened to me," Matt said of being fired the first time. The best was being fired the second time, which forced him onto a journey of unexpected twists that ultimately led to his life's work. In 2006, Andrew Mason launched The Point, a website intended to bring people together to solve problems. When the recession hit in 2008, the company needed money but lacked a business model. Under pressure, they pivoted to a new concept: getting groups of people to buy the same product for a discount. This pivot gave birth to Groupon, eventually valued at nearly thirteen billion dollars. The pivot strategy has served entrepreneurs throughout history—from Samuel Adams, who failed at being a lawyer and businessman before finding his voice in politics, to Mother Teresa, who spent twenty years as a nun and teacher before experiencing her "call within a call" to serve the poor. A calling isn't a static destiny but a lifestyle that evolves through intentional pivots. When you feel furthest from your purpose, you may actually be closer than you realize. What separates a season of failure from a lifetime of failure is your willingness to recognize hardship as an opportunity to learn. As my friend Jonathan discovered, sometimes the most powerful shift comes from changing "what if" to "let's"—moving from dreaming to doing. The message is clear: your calling is waiting on you. You can spend your days dreaming of a better life or do the messy work of getting started today. Fear will always be present, but it shouldn't be an obstacle. We lean in, realizing that failure is inevitable but not final. Through pivoting, we transform setbacks into stepping stones toward our true purpose.

Chapter 6: The Portfolio Life: Embracing a Multifaceted Calling

Jody Maberry studied finance and marketing in college, eagerly anticipating his entry into the business world. During his final year, however, he discovered his university's Outdoor Adventure program and took a trip to Yellowstone National Park that left an indelible impression. After graduation, Jody spent three months exploring the western United States, eventually reaching Washington State. "Tossing rocks into the water at Deception Pass State Park," he wrote, "I realized I could never go home." Within a month, he packed everything into his car and moved to Washington with no job, no friends, and just $300 in his pocket. Over the next four years, Jody worked as a financial analyst for a commercial bank—"the job I went to college for, the job I was supposed to do"—while spending his free time exploring Deception Pass. One day, while helping Jody and his wife move into their new house, a friend mentioned that Washington State Parks was hiring rangers. "Before the first box was moved into our new house," Jody recalled, "I had made up my mind. I was going to be a park ranger." Without the necessary credentials, Jody worked at the bank during the day and attended school at night for a year, keeping his plans secret from his employer. After becoming a ranger, he worked in Spokane for a year, driving home on weekends to see his wife. Eventually, she joined him, and they discovered they were expecting a child—a development that would later impact his dream career. After several years as a ranger, Jody faced a difficult choice: continue his beloved work at the parks, which required long hours away from his growing family, or pursue a different path. He ultimately left the park service to focus on his family, obtained an MBA, and began working for a construction company. Though he initially missed his ranger work, he found ways to reconnect with parks through a podcast called The Park Leaders Show, which helps build the next generation of park leaders. "I was called to parks, not to be a park ranger," he explained, recognizing that his calling had evolved rather than disappeared. By 2020, 40-50% of the American workforce will be freelancers, and by 2030, they'll be the majority. This trend reflects a fundamental truth: humans are multifaceted creatures with varied interests. Rather than viewing our work as a monolithic activity, we can see it as a portfolio comprising different elements. Charles Handy, who coined the term "portfolio life," identified five types of work: fee work, salary work, homework, study work, and gift work. Only the first two are paid, but all contribute to a meaningful life. A complete portfolio extends beyond work to encompass four essential areas: Work (the various ways we contribute professionally), Home (relationships and family), Play (activities we do for pure enjoyment), and Purpose (the deeper motivation behind everything else). As Charles Handy observed, "Sensible people reinvent themselves every ten years." This portfolio approach helps create harmony in our lives and make sense of our diverse activities. True mastery doesn't mean achieving perfection or fame; it means understanding your potential and dedicating your life to pursuing that ideal. As Peter Senge describes it, mastery "goes beyond competence and skills... It means approaching one's life as a creative work." When a successful musician was asked how he went from average income to earning a million dollars annually, his answer was surprising: "I stopped trying to be famous and focused instead on trying to be successful." For him, success meant setting and achieving goals that aligned with his values, not chasing external validation. The work of psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi demonstrates that happiness comes not from material wealth but from "flow"—the intersection of what you're good at and what challenges you. This state occurs when we serve something greater than ourselves, when our calling becomes a gift we give away rather than something we possess. As Jody Maberry concluded, "A calling does not mean a specific job. I am no longer a park ranger, but it does not mean I have to walk away from my calling. I can instead apply my strengths to add value to the cause in another way."

Chapter 7: Legacy Beyond Self: Creating Your Magnum Opus

Visiting my first mud hut in rural Uganda, I was surprised to find hope. Nine-year-old Kevin lived there with her aunt Christine and uncle Sam, who had taken her in after her mother disappeared. Despite the family's hardships—the recent loss of twin baby boys and having a deaf son with limited educational opportunities—Sam worked tirelessly to improve their circumstances. He farmed his land and ran a small roadside shop selling basic necessities. When I asked about his financial goals, Sam answered without hesitation: "Five million"—about $2,000 USD—the amount he needed to send his son to a special needs school and build a sturdier home. Despite having to walk two miles daily for clean water and cooking all meals over a fire, Sam's demeanor radiated determination and joy. His dream wasn't just for himself; it was for his family. This man with an infectious smile taught me more than any millionaire ever could—that wealth isn't defined by what you have, but by what you do with it, and for whom you do it. In the film Mr. Holland's Opus, we meet a frustrated music teacher trying to compose his masterpiece while working at a high school. What he initially viewed as a temporary job to pay bills becomes his life's work. Over decades, he inspires students, struggles with personal challenges (including having a deaf son who cannot appreciate music the same way he does), and slowly works on his symphony. When budget cuts force his retirement, he believes he has failed to achieve his dream. As he leaves the school for the last time, Mr. Holland hears music from the gymnasium. Inside, he finds hundreds of former students gathered to honor him. The state governor, once his student, addresses him: "Mr. Holland, we are your symphony." The orchestra then performs the composition he spent thirty years writing. In this powerful moment, Holland realizes that all the "interruptions" to his work—the students, the challenges, the daily frustrations—weren't distractions from his calling but the most important part of it. "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans," John Lennon wrote. The smallest moments, the ones we think are insignificant, often become the ones we cherish most. As we pursue our callings, we may be tempted to rush past these interruptions—the colleague at the water cooler, the toddler tugging at our pant leg. But these moments remind us that a calling is more than a career; it's a life lived well. A calling isn't something new and shiny but often something familiar that we've taken for granted. It's our true self, shared with the world. As classroom teacher Gloria Stronks discovered when visiting her students' impoverished homes, a calling can be as simple as accepting your role in a story bigger than yourself. The easiest way to miss your calling is to ignore it, waiting for "someday," or to treat it as an event rather than a lifestyle. Your vocation is your entire life's work—not a single masterpiece but a magnum opus that encompasses all you are and do. Stephen King wrote about replacing his massive oak desk, which dominated his office, with a smaller one in the corner. After overcoming addiction with his family's help, he learned that "life isn't a support system for art. It's the other way around." This wisdom echoes in the story of Homer Simpson, who placed photos of his daughter around a plaque in his office that originally read "Don't forget; you're here forever," transforming it to read "Do it for her." The roadblocks and inconveniences we encounter aren't distractions from our calling but essential parts of it. In the end, a life well-lived is not about what we accomplish for ourselves, but what we create for others.

Summary

The journey toward finding and embracing your calling is not a straight line but a path of discovery marked by unexpected turns. From Eric Miller's transformation after his son's cancer diagnosis to Jody Noland's letter-writing ministry born from grief, we see that our greatest purpose often emerges from our deepest pain. Ginny Phang found her calling as a doula after facing rejection as an unwed mother, while Matt McWilliams discovered his marketing gifts only after being fired—twice. These stories reveal that calling isn't something that arrives fully formed but develops through listening, apprenticeship, practice, discovery, failure, integration, and ultimately, legacy. The art of meaningful work demands that we abandon the myth of the perfect plan or the single passion. Instead, we must build bridges through intentional action, pivot when necessary, and embrace the portfolio of activities that comprise our unique contribution. Our calling is never just about us—it extends beyond our individual accomplishments to touch the lives of others. As Mr. Holland discovered, the "interruptions" we resent may actually be our most important work. The final measure of our calling is not what we achieve for ourselves but what we leave behind for others. In the words of Jackie Robinson, "A life isn't significant except for its impact on other lives." Your calling isn't just what you do; it's who you become and the legacy you create—a symphony composed not of notes on a page but of lives you've touched along the way.

About Author

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Jeff Goins

Jeff Goins is a writer, keynote speaker, and entrepreneur with a reputation for challenging the status quo. He is the best-selling author of five books including The Art of Work and Real Artists Don’t Starve. His award-winning blog Goinswriter.com is visited by millions of people every year, and his work has been featured in the Washington Post, USA Today, Entrepreneur, Forbes, Psychology Today, Business Insider, Time, and many others. Through his online courses, events, and coaching programs, he helps thousands of creatives succeed every year. A father of two and a guacamole aficionado, Jeff lives just outside of Nashville, Tennessee.

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