The Power of Habit – Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business

Who else is around? (no one)

What action preceded the urge? (answered an email)

The next day:

Where are you? (walking back from the copier)

What time is it? (3:18 P.M.)

What’s your emotional state? (happy)

Who else is around? (Jim from Sports)

What action preceded the urge? (made a photocopy)

The third day:

Where are you? (conference room)

What time is it? (3:41 P.M.)

What’s your emotional state? (tired, excited about the project I’m working on)

Who else is around? (editors who are coming to this meeting)

What action preceded the urge? (I sat down because the meeting is about to start)

Three days in, it was pretty clear which cue was triggering my cookie habit-I felt an urge to get a snack at a certain time of day. I had already figured out, in step two, that it wasn’t hunger driving my behavior. The reward I was seeking was a temporary distraction-the kind that comes from gossiping with a friend. And the habit, I now knew, was triggered between 3:00 and 4:00.

STEP FOUR: HAVE A PLAN

Once you’ve figured out your habit loop-you’ve identified the reward driving your behavior, the cue triggering it, and the routine itself-you can begin to shift the behavior. You can change to a better routine by planning for the cue and choosing a behavior that delivers the reward you are craving. What you need is a plan.

In the prologue, we learned that a habit is a choice that we deliberately make at some point, and then stop thinking about, but continue doing, often every day.

Put another way, a habit is a formula our brain automatically follows: When I see CUE, I will do ROUTINE in order to get a REWARD.

To re-engineer that formula, we need to begin making choices again. And the easiest way to do this, according to study after study, is to have a plan. Within psychology, these plans are known as “implementation intentions.”

Take, for instance, my cookie-in-the-afternoon habit. By using this framework, I learned that my cue was roughly 3:30 in the afternoon. I knew that my routine was to go to the cafeteria, buy a cookie, and chat with friends. And, through experimentation, I had learned that it wasn’t really the cookie I craved-rather, it was a moment of distraction and the opportunity to socialize.

So I wrote a plan:

At 3:30, every day, I will walk to a friend’s desk and talk for 10 minutes.

To make sure I remembered to do this, I set the alarm on my watch for 3:30.

It didn’t work immediately. There were some days I was too busy and ignored the alarm, and then fell off the wagon. Other times it seemed like too much work to find a friend willing to chat-it was easier to get a cookie, and so I gave in to the urge. But on those days that I abided by my plan-when my alarm went off, I forced myself to walk to a friend’s desk and chat for ten minutes-I found that I ended the workday feeling better. I hadn’t gone to the cafeteria, I hadn’t eat a cookie, and I felt fine. Eventually, it got be automatic: when the alarm rang, I found a friend and ended the day feeling a small, but real, sense of accomplishment. After a few weeks, I hardly thought about the routine anymore. And when I couldn’t find anyone to chat with, I went to the cafeteria and bought tea and drank it with friends.

That all happened about six months ago. I don’t have my watch anymore-I lost it at some point. But at about 3:30 every day, I absentmindedly stand up, look around the newsroom for someone to talk to, spend ten minutes gossiping about the news, and then go back to my desk. It occurs almost without me thinking about it. It has become a habit.

Obviously, changing some habits can be more difficult. But this framework is a place to start. Sometimes change takes a long time. Sometimes it requires repeated experiments and failures. But once you understand how a habit operates-once you diagnose the cue, the routine and the reward-you gain power over it.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have been undeservedly lucky throughout my life to work with people who are more talented than I am, and to get to steal their wisdom and gracefulness and pass it off as my own.

Which is why you are reading this book, and why I have so many people to thank.

Andy Ward acquired The Power of Habit before he even started as an editor at Random House. At the time, I did not know that he was a kind, generous, and amazingly-astoundingly-talented editor. I’d heard from some friends that he had elevated their prose and held their hands so gracefully they almost forgot the touch. But I figured they were exaggerating, since many of them were drinking at the time. Dear reader: it’s all true. Andy’s humility, patience and-most of all-the work he puts into being a good friend make everyone around him want to be a better person. This book is as much his as mine, and I am thankful that I had a chance to know, work with, and learn from him. Equally, I owe an enormous debt to some obscure deity for landing me at Random House under the wise guidance of Susan Kamil, the leadership of Gina Centrello, and the advice and efforts of Avideh Bashirrad, Tom Perry, Sanyu Dillon, Sally Marvin, Barbara Fillon, Maria Braeckel, Erika Greber, and the ever-patient Kaela Myers.

A similar twist of fortune allowed me to work with Scott Moyers, Andrew Wylie, and James Pullen at the Wylie Agency. Scott’s counsel and friendship-as many writers know-is as invaluable as it is generous. Scott has moved back into the editorial world, and readers everywhere should consider themselves lucky. Andrew Wylie is always steadfast and astute in making the world safer (and more comfortable) for his writers, and I am enormously grateful. And James Pullen has helped me understand how to write in languages I didn’t know existed.

Additionally, I owe an enormous amount to the New York Times. A huge thanks goes to Larry Ingrassia, The Times’ business editor, whose friendship, advice and understanding allowed me to write this book, and to commit journalism among so many other talented reporters in an atmosphere where our work-and The Times’ mission-is constantly elevated by his example. Vicki Ingrassia, too, has been a wonderful support. As any writer who has met Adam Bryant knows, he is an amazing advocate and friend, with gifted hands. And it is a privilege to work for Bill Keller, Jill Abramson, Dean Baquet and Glenn Kramon, and to follow their examples of how journalists should carry themselves through the world.

A few other thanks: I’m indebted to my Times colleagues Dean Murphy, Winnie O’Kelly, Jenny Anderson, Rick Berke, Andrew Ross Sorkin, David Leonhardt, Walt Bogdanich, David Gillen, Eduardo Porter, Jodi Kantor, Vera Titunik, Amy O’leary, Peter Lattman, David Segal, Christine Haughney, Jenny Schussler, Joe Nocera and Jim Schacter (both of whom read chapters for me), Jeff Cane, Michael Barbaro and others who have been so generous with their friendship and their ideas.

Similarly, I’m thankful to Alex Blumberg, Adam Davidson, Paula Szuchman, Nivi Nord, Alex Berenson, Nazanin Rafsanjani, Brendan Koerner, Nicholas Thompson, Kate Kelly, Sarah Ellison, Kevin Bleyer, Amanda Schaffer, Dennis Potami, James Wynn, Noah Kotch, Greg Nelson, Caitlin Pike, Jonathan Klein, Amanda Klein, Donnan Steele, Stacey Steele, Wesley Morris, Adir Waldman, Rich Frankel, Jennifer Couzin, Aaron Bendikson, Richard Rampell, Mike Bor, David Lewicki, Beth Waltemath, Ellen Martin, Russ Uman, Erin Brown, Jeff Norton, Raj De Datta, Ruben Sigala, Dan Costello, Peter Blake, Peter Goodman, Alix Spiegel, Susan Dominus, Jenny Rosenstrach, Jason Woodard, Taylor Noguera, and Matthew Bird, who all provided support and guidance. The book’s cover, and wonderful interior graphics, come from the mind of the incredibly talented Anton Ioukhnovets.

I also owe a debt to the many people who were generous with their time in reporting this book. Many are