How I Built Relentless Discipline—And Why It Wasn't Enough

The path to creative obsession

Self-portrait of the author Josh Coronel

I wasn’t your typical kid.

At 11 years old, I woke up at 6 a.m. every morning, ate breakfast, showered, and walked to school by 7:15 a.m. School didn’t start until 8:30, but I wanted to get there early.

I had a mission: to beat Mr. Harold at chess.

Mr. Harold was the cool history teacher, the one everyone liked. He was sharp, patient, and deadly with a chessboard. I wasn’t the best student in class, but I was obsessed with the game. Every morning, I sat across from him, moving pieces, plotting strategies, and losing—over and over.

But this isn’t about chess.

This is a story of how you build an obsessed level of discipline.

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Where does discipline come from?

Discipline follows what’s important to you.

My dad was disciplined, but not academically. He was the kind of person who worked tirelessly, pushing his limits, always moving, always hustling. He never put much stock in school—he barely made it through, got into fights, walked away without looking back. But when he committed to something, he did it with everything he had. Whether it was working long hours, fixing things around the house, or making sure we had what we needed, he showed up. No excuses.

I was different. I was a middle schooler getting into fights, barely skating by, but somehow, I still woke up early for chess.

I had that same drive, but I didn’t know where to put it yet.

All it takes is one belief to change everything

The switch didn’t flip until high school

Somewhere between scraping by and failing, I started to believe in the idea that grades would define my life. That if I got straight As, doors would open. That discipline in academics would be my ticket to success.

So I leaned in. Hard.

I stopped fighting. I started studying. My early wake-ups continued, but now they were filled with textbooks instead of chess. By my second year of high school, I was in advanced classes. Four years of college, I continued unchanged.

For eight years, I showed up with the same energy. No breaks. No excuses. Nothing else mattered.

I wasn’t just disciplined. I was obsessed.

The discipline equation

Discipline = Importance + Enjoyment - Cost

This equation, popularized by Steven Bartlett, explains why we stick to some things and quit others.

Importance—I believed, with every fiber of my being, that top grades were the key to my future.

Enjoyment—Not much. But I convinced myself that subjects could be interesting. I found ways to make them feel like a game.

Cost—High. Exhausting. Lonely. But I pushed through.

I stayed disciplined because the importance outweighed everything else.

When discipline isn’t enough

If you’re chasing the wrong thing, no amount of discipline will save you.

I graduated, got a job, and thought I’d made it. I walked into my future with the same relentless energy.

Then I got fired. Ten months in.

The thing I had bet my life on—the belief that grades equaled success—clearly wasn’t true.

I had been wrong.

What really matters

Discipline needs to tie to what actually fulfills you.

Discipline is only as strong as the thing you believe in. And when that belief crumbles, so does the discipline.

We all have time. Every day, every hour, we decide how to spend it. And if you don’t believe in what you’re doing, if it isn’t deeply important, you won’t stick with it.

My mistake? I thought my obsession with academics would give me everything I needed, but it didn’t.

So I had to start over.

A new definition of discipline

Find something worth showing up for every day.

I looked at my dad. He hadn’t needed grades to be disciplined. He had built his life through sheer force of will, through consistency, through showing up for what mattered to him. That’s what I needed to find.

I asked myself what I truly cared about. What I would do even if there were no rewards, no guarantees.

Writing. Photography. Creating.

For now, that’s what mattered.

So I started again. With the same obsessive energy, but with a different purpose.

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I don’t know if I’m right this time. Maybe I’ll wake up in ten years and realize I was wrong again.

But here’s what I believe: If you find something that makes you obsessed—truly obsessed—you owe it to yourself to place your bets on it.

To be disciplined because you want to, not because you have to.

And for Mr. Harold, I wiped the floor with him in chess.

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Thank you for reading Unfinished Drafts. We’re spotlight creatives from all areas of life. If you know—or are—a creator with a story, get in touch!