Tamesue Talks: Random Thoughts on His Recent Book "The Theory of Mastery" vol.2

"Free Flow" is a serialized interview column in Web Dentsu Inc. News where Mr. Dai Tamesue freely discusses "what's on his mind right now." This special edition focuses on his book "Theory of Mastery" (published by Shinchosha), released on July 13th. For Part 1, we asked Mr. Hibi from Dentsu Inc. Future Creative Center, who has long collaborated with Mr. Tamesue on the Athlete Brains project, to contribute a prologue for the series.

In installments #02 through #06, author Tamesue and producer/editor Fumio Iwasa, who edited "Theory of Mastery," engage in a dialogue-style conversation centered on "stories you can only hear here" – including the background leading to the book's writing, memories, and the hardships involved. We hope you enjoy their numerous comments based on the profound theme of "how should humans live?"

(Web Dentsu Inc. Editorial Department)

I was actually nervous inside, thinking, "Won't this book end up fragmented and disjointed?" (Iwasa Fumio)

Iwasa: I can say this now, but once the five "chapters" were decided and Mr. Tamesue's manuscript came in structured around them, there were moments I felt uneasy. It was well-organized, but each chapter seemed "chopped up" or "fragmented," lacking a smooth connection. So, early on, I seriously considered ideas like inserting column-like pieces at the end of each chapter.

Tamesue: Looking back now, I had too many things I wanted to write about, and my emotions were getting ahead of me. I completely skipped over the second character we're discussing this time, "form."

Iwasa: In typical coaching or guidebooks, they almost always start with "form," right? It's the same in the world of athletes, chefs, or performing arts. They say, "Don't complain, don't overthink it, just start with the form. Eventually, you'll understand."

Tamura: That's exactly what I hated (laughs). But you can't escape "kata," and running away from it is a waste. Whether you end up rejecting it later or not, it's crucial to first experience the teachings of those who came before you. More than crucial, it's you who loses out if you don't know it.
 

Iwasa: So that's why you chose "form" as the second character (laughs).

Tamesue: The "Theory of Mastery" I wanted to write wasn't meant to be a "manual" for mastery. What I wanted to convey is that mastery involves a "process." Back when I was competing, I never even thought about that. That's why I didn't have a specific coach; I relied solely on my own inspiration. When things are going well, that's fine. But when you hit a wall, you don't know what to do, and you just get more and more anxious. Trying all sorts of things, of course, doesn't produce results.

Iwasa: That applies to writing too, doesn't it?

Tamura: That's where Maho Adachi, the editor from Shinchosha who was also featured in our last discussion, comes in.

Iwasa: Not just an "editor," but a "demon editor." Someone who says "Wonderful!" while simultaneously slapping down a ton of red ink (laughs).

Tamura: I was genuinely moved by Ms. Adachi's feedback every single time. It's because there's a solid "structure" behind it. She made me realize that a manuscript without structure is just writing whatever you want to write, without any awareness of the overall flow. For an athlete, that's like not listening to your body. You're only focused on shaving a fraction of a second off your time, so even if you think you've got it all figured out in your head, your body can't keep up and everything falls apart.

Iwasa: That's when you realize the "form" is what you can rely on.

Tamura: After thoroughly "playing around," you start craving the "form." I feel this keenly, both recalling my active days and now coaching young athletes. You can often tell when an athlete hasn't yet reached that point deep down where they genuinely crave the "form."

Iwasa: The way you find salvation in the very structure you yourself created—that's so typical of you, Tamesue. Honest, I guess, or unpretentious. And then you just go ahead and course-correct on your own. As your editor, while it felt reassuring, it also made me think, "Well then, what exactly am I supposed to do?" (laughs).

Mr. Fumio Iwasa: Producer/Editor. Graduated from Jiyu Gakuen. Worked as a business book editor at the Japan Productivity Center and Diamond Inc., served as editor-in-chief of "Harvard Business Review," and became independent in 2017. Producer of the books "Shin Nihon" and "Mousou suru Atama & Shikou suru Te," as well as Tamesue Dai's "Jukutatsu Ron." Currently serves as editor-in-chief of the audio media platform 'VOOX' and is a Fellow at Eiji Press.

Tamesue: When I was vaguely feeling restless, thinking I wanted to write a book like Miyamoto Musashi's "The Book of Five Rings," Mr. Iwasa asked me, "Why not write it now?" Looking back, I think that made me realize, "Ah, so that's the kind of role an editor can play."

Iwasa: It wasn't really a feeling of "Why don't you write it now?" It was actually more of a question: "Why aren't you writing it now?"

Tamesue: And before I knew it, it became a book (laughs). Honestly, I feel like it was made into a book for me.

The relationship between "individuality" and "form" is tricky. That's precisely why it's fun. (Tamesue Dai)

Tamesue: It's something I've thought for a while: scattered "individuality" somehow converges into a "pattern" over time. Then, once that "pattern" is somewhat established, "individuality" starts to break free again. In sports, I think this applies to all team-based disciplines.

Iwasa: While I can only speak from superficial knowledge about the athlete world, regarding your writing, Tamesue-san, my impression is that it's three-dimensional (stereoscopic) and dynamic. The world of print is expressed in two dimensions and is static. So, an editor like me inevitably ends up using abstract, vague language. But in your case, Tamesue-san, you immediately make it concrete and three-dimensional.

Tamesue: The beauty of "forms" is that through repeated practice, they become second nature.

No application without the "form"

Iwasa: I see. So the body reacts before there's time to overthink.

Tamesue: Now that you mention it, I often get asked, "What do you think about that, Mr. Tamesue?" I don't consciously focus on "individuality" or "form," but when asked "What do you think?", my body reacts before my mind does. Then, as if chasing that reaction, memories start bubbling up—like, "Oh yeah, I had this experience abroad," or "I remember reading about this in a book long ago." That's what makes it fun. It's that thrilling feeling of realizing, "So this is what happens when something buried deep in my heart gets abstracted and put into words."

Iwasa: So it's like "playing" within the "form," I suppose?

Tamesue: So, when I consulted Iwasa-san about wanting to write something like The Book of Five Rings, he said, "Essentially, what you want to write is a 'theory of learning,' right?" And I thought, "Ah, that makes sense." I didn't want it to be like a "how-to manual," but when he called it a "theory of learning," it expanded my vision—it meant unraveling the "process (stages)" rather than just providing a "manual."

The path to mastery is never smooth.

(Continued in #04)

Back issues of 'Athlete Brains: Tamesue Dai's 'Mastering Pace Control'," serialized in Web Dentsu Inc., are available here.