Get It Done

How do you motivate yourself when no one else is there to nudge you along? In Get It Done: Surprising Lessons from the Science of Motivation, psychologist Ayelet Fishbach argues that motivation isn’t a matter of willpower alone — it’s about engineering the situation so you want to move forward. Fishbach, a leading researcher at the University of Chicago, draws on decades of behavioral science to reveal how you can design the conditions that make progress inevitable rather than arduous.

She invites you to picture yourself like the fabled Baron Münchausen, who pulled himself out of a swamp by his own hair. While the baron’s story breaks the laws of physics, it captures something vital about the human experience. We often have to pull ourselves up by our own proverbial hair — getting out of bed when we’re tired, changing careers, saving money, or writing the book we’ve always dreamed of. The question is not whether we can, but how we can do it effectively.

The Four Essential Ingredients of Motivation

Fishbach distills motivation science into four essential components: choosing the right goal, sustaining progress, managing competing priorities, and leveraging social support. Each of these represents both a stage in the motivational process and a different kind of challenge. Throughout the book, she blends anecdotes from her life — including her upbringing in an Israeli kibbutz that valued community over individual ambition — with findings from behavioral research to illustrate how people can overcome obstacles to these four ingredients.

In Part I: Choose Your Goal, she examines why some goals inspire action and others feel like chores. You’ll learn to formulate goals that act as magnets, pulling you forward because they are exciting, specific, intrinsically meaningful, and wisely chosen rather than merely idealistic. The story of climbers on Mount Everest — who risked their lives for the pull of a summit — underscores how a powerful goal can be life-changing or even life-threatening, depending on its design.

In Part II: Keep Pulling, Fishbach explores the psychology of progress. You’ll discover why the middle of any project is the most perilous—the moment when motivation wanes—and how to hack the perception of progress to push yourself onward. She also delves into how feedback works: why people learn less from failure than from success, and how to change your relationship with negative feedback so it becomes fuel rather than friction.

In Part III: Competing Goals, she dives into the daily tug-of-war between your desires. Should you go to the gym or scroll TikTok? Work late or spend time with your family? Self-control, patience, and prioritization become essential tools here. Drawing on decades of motivation research and classic behavioral studies, including Walter Mischel’s iconic “marshmallow test,” she reframes willpower as something you can build structurally through smart choices and habits rather than brute restraint.

Finally, in Part IV: Social Support, Fishbach demonstrates that no one truly motivates themselves alone. Humans are social organisms, and much of our self-discipline relies on interpersonal cues. From role models and teamwork to intimate relationships and friendships, she shows how aligning goals within social networks multiplies motivation. Motivation spreads socially — both through positive role models and through “anti–role models” we define ourselves against.

Why This Science Matters

Fishbach’s contribution lies in reframing motivation from an internal struggle to an external design problem. Rather than judging yourself for lacking discipline, she encourages you to treat motivation as something you can cultivate through structure and self-awareness. You modify your behavior by modifying the situation — just as psychologists, sociologists, and economists agree behavior is shaped most by context.

In short, Get It Done is a deeply scientific yet pragmatic guide to becoming your own behavioral architect. Whether you’re pursuing health, creativity, career advancement, or better relationships, Fishbach’s insights help you shift from being pushed by guilt or fear to being pulled by curiosity and meaning. Motivation becomes less about grit and more about grace — learning to arrange your environment, mindset, and community so that progress happens naturally.

Fishbach begins by warning that not all goals are created equal. The line between an inspiring mission and a burdensome chore is thin, and how you frame a goal determines which side it lands on. A goal should represent what you want, not what you feel you should do. You’re more likely to pursue something that excites you than something that merely checks a box.

From Means to Ends

Fishbach calls out three common goal-setting traps: treating means as goals, being too concrete, and defining goals as avoidance (“don’t”) rather than approach (“do”). Drawing on an experiment she conducted with MBA students bidding on an autographed book, she shows that people overpay for goals but underpay for means. A tote bag meant to hold the book actually reduced its perceived value. We dislike spending our resources on the journey; we crave the destination itself.

In the same way, defining your goal as “apply for jobs” feels like a chore, while “find meaningful work” feels energizing. This cognitive reframing shifts motivation from obligation to aspiration. Much like James Clear’s notion in Atomic Habits of “identity-based habits,” Fishbach’s principle helps you orient toward who you want to become, not just what you want to check off.

The Power of Abstraction

Abstract goals clarify why you’re acting, while concrete ones detail how. “Be successful” is too vague; “explore new career opportunities” hits the sweet spot between inspiration and actionability. Fishbach highlights research showing that thinking in “why” questions (why do you maintain good health?) rather than “how” questions (how do you maintain good health?) boosts motivation. Yet over-abstracting can be dangerous — pure fantasy doesn’t generate movement. Instead of dreaming of “being happy,” specify goals like “improving my mental health” or “spending fifteen minutes meditating each morning.”

Approach, Don’t Avoid

Perhaps the most counterintuitive finding here is that avoidance goals (“don’t get sick,” “don’t lose money”) often backfire. Daniel Wegner’s “white bear” experiment — where participants told not to think of white bears couldn’t stop doing so — shows the futility of suppression. Thinking “don’t eat cake” activates cake in your mind. Instead, define goals positively: “choose fruit for dessert.” Approach goals feel rewarding rather than restrictive and are easier to maintain long term. They also fit your psychological “orientation”: some people are more approach-driven by nature, while others are avoidance-driven, but in most cases, the “do” frame leads to greater persistence.

Ultimately, goals that pull you are end-focused, abstract yet actionable, and approach-oriented. They look less like chores, more like desires — they represent who you want to become, not who you’re trying to avoid being. When you think of goals as invitations rather than obligations, you stop pushing yourself and start moving forward naturally.

We’ve all heard about the magic of SMART goals, but Fishbach takes this concept further by exploring how numbers affect psychology. Quantifying your goal translates abstract hope into concrete movement — but only if the numbers are well chosen and personally meaningful. She opens with the popular Fitbit “10,000 steps” rule, which originated not from science but from a 1960s Japanese pedometer ad slogan. The number’s real power lies in creating a vivid target to aim for, not in its scientific precision.

Challenging Yet Realistic Targets

Targets work best when they’re difficult but achievable. Set the bar too low and your brain tunes out; too high and you give up. The “planning fallacy,” famously illustrated by the decades-late Sydney Opera House project, shows how people chronically underestimate time and resources. But optimistic targets serve a purpose: they energize effort. Studies with students setting self-imposed deadlines found that those who created stricter timelines actually performed better than those with none. Optimistic expectations can be motivational tools when the cost of missing them is modest.

Making Targets Measurable and Actionable

Numbers must also be measurable and actionable. “Get more sleep” is vague; “sleep eight hours per night” invites tracking. Yet metrics must translate into clear behavior. Counting calories is often too abstract; thinking in terms of “daily allowance” or “macronutrient percentages” may be more actionable. Fishbach highlights research showing that visual food labeling — traffic-light systems marking foods as green (healthy), yellow, or red — changed cafeteria choices more effectively than nutrient tables. When data is simplified into an intuitive signal, motivation follows.

Ownership and Avoiding Malicious Targets

Fishbach emphasizes another overlooked factor: ownership. Self-set goals yield higher commitment. When someone else dictates your target — your boss’s quota or your doctor’s restriction — you’re more likely to rebel through what psychologists call “psychological reactance.” No one likes being told what to do. She recounts how Wells Fargo’s disastrous “Gr-eight initiative” (forcing employees to sell eight products per customer) drove workers to commit fraud. Malicious targets — unrealistic, narrow, or short-term metrics — distort behavior. A healthy goal should stretch you without making you compromise ethics or well-being.

Numbers motivate because they collapse ambiguity into visible markers of progress. Yet the healthiest relationship with them is flexible — they’re guidelines, not judgments. Missing a target by a little shouldn’t mean “what the hell, I failed”; it should spark reflection and recalibration. Progress is rarely linear, but numerical targets can make the invisible visible — if you design them wisely.

In our daily lives, we constantly encounter rewards and punishments — bonuses, loyalty points, gold stars, guilt trips, and social praise. Fishbach’s chapter on incentives explores why external motivators work brilliantly sometimes and backfire disastrously other times. The key lies in understanding what you’re rewarding and how incentives interact with intrinsic motivation.

Rewarding the Right Thing

Fishbach recounts the famous “rat bounty” fiasco in colonial Hanoi, where officials paid citizens for each rat tail turned in. The unintended consequence? People bred rats for their tails. This vivid example — also known as the “cobra effect” — illustrates that rewarding the wrong behavior produces perverse incentives. The goal should be to reward progress toward the desired outcome, not mere appearances of success. In the workplace, praise effort and teamwork rather than output alone to avoid cutthroat behavior.

When Incentives Crowd Out Joy

One of the most famous studies in motivational psychology — Mark Lepper’s 1973 “Good Player Award” experiment — revealed that rewarding children for drawing reduced their later desire to draw. When an activity that was fun becomes work, intrinsic motivation erodes — a phenomenon known as the “overjustification effect.” Fishbach extends this by introducing the “dilution principle”: adding multiple reasons to do something makes each reason seem weaker. Tell a child that carrots help them count better, and you make them think carrots taste worse. We lose the joy of doing for its own sake when rewards reinterpret the meaning of our actions.

The Case for Uncertainty

Surprisingly, uncertain rewards can inspire more effort than guaranteed ones. Fishbach and her coauthors found that people tried harder in a “drink water” challenge when unsure if they’d earn $1 or $2. Uncertainty adds suspense — the same engine that fuels slot machines, but one we can harness ethically. Variable feedback (sometimes praise, sometimes surprise) sustains engagement better than predictability — akin to how a runner feels exhilarated not knowing if today’s session will break a record.

Incentives, then, are potent when they complement rather than replace internal satisfaction. Reward behaviors that align with your deeper purpose; avoid bribes that redefine your motives. And occasionally, add a dash of the unknown — it keeps action exciting.

“Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do,” wrote Mark Twain, “and play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.” Fishbach uses Tom Sawyer’s fence-painting scam to illustrate the essence of intrinsic motivation — doing something for its own sake. When you can make an obligation feel like an opportunity, your mind’s energy flips from resistance to flow.

What Intrinsic Motivation Really Is

Intrinsic motivation arises when the activity and the goal fuse. When you enjoy running for the feeling of running, not the finish line, or coding for the thrill of the puzzle rather than the paycheck, you no longer distinguish means from ends. Fishbach calls this “perceptual fusion.” The more immediate the benefit — joy, curiosity, calm — the stronger the motivation. Conversely, when the benefits feel distant (“I’ll be healthy in ten years”), we rely on discipline rather than desire.

Making It More Fun

Fishbach offers three strategies to make any goal more intrinsically motivating: make it fun (bundle it with immediate pleasures like music or podcasts), choose a fun path (pick activities you actually enjoy, such as Zumba instead of the treadmill), and notice existing fun (focus on immediate pleasures like the crunch of carrots instead of their health benefits). Her studies with Kaitlin Woolley showed that students who made math enjoyable with music and bright pens worked longer; gymgoers who chose preferred exercises did more repetitions. The key: pleasure amplifies persistence.

Rediscovering Joy and Empathy

Fishbach also dismantles myths: people underestimate how important intrinsic motivation is to others and to their future selves. We think colleagues care more about money than meaning, and we forget how much our future selves will crave interest, not income. Like Daniel Pink in Drive, she argues that intrinsic motivation — autonomy, mastery, purpose — is the ultimate engine of sustained engagement. When you build joy into your journey, you stop forcing motivation and start cultivating momentum.

Motivation thrives on visible movement. Whether you’re collecting smoothie stamps or course credits, the closer you feel to the finish line, the faster you move. Fishbach calls this the “goal gradient effect” — the sense of acceleration as we near completion. Recognizing progress, even illusory, increases effort and satisfaction.

Progress and Commitment

Progress doesn’t just feel good; it signals commitment. Every action you take toward a goal convinces your brain the goal matters. This feedback loop explains the “sunk-cost fallacy”: you keep watching a bad movie because you’ve already invested time. But it also underlies the “foot-in-the-door” persuasion technique: agreeing to a small action (signing a safe-driving petition) increases the likelihood of a larger one later (installing a yard sign). Your behavior tells your brain you care, so you double down.

Learning from Failure

Fishbach also explores how we — paradoxically — fail to learn from failure. Her research with Lauren Eskreis-Winkler found that people tune out after hearing “you’re wrong.” Failure threatens the ego, so we disengage. The fix is to reframe failure as feedback about progress rather than commitment: “I need to try harder,” not “I’m not capable.” Experts, whose identities are secure, excel at this framing and therefore learn faster. Novices take feedback personally and shut down.

She distinguishes between interpreting negative feedback as lack of progress (motivating) versus lack of ability (demoralizing). Cultivating a growth mindset — as Carol Dweck advocates — helps anchor failure as progress data, not a verdict on your worth. When setbacks mean “not yet” rather than “never,” progress becomes self-sustaining.

Life is an endless juggling act: career, family, health, leisure. Fishbach’s third section explores how to manage conflicts between goals without burning out. Kierkegaard’s dictum “to will one thing” may be poetic, she writes, but it’s impossible. The challenge is not choosing one goal but balancing many smartly.

Maximizing Attainment Across Goals

Fishbach introduces the “maximizing attainment” principle: seek actions that advance multiple goals simultaneously (multifinal means). Biking to work, for instance, supports health, finances, and the environment. But beware of dilution — the more goals one activity serves, the less strongly it feels tied to any single one. That’s why a “coffee cup umbrella” sounds clever yet useless. Sometimes unifinal means — actions serving only one goal — are more motivating because they feel pure and purposeful.

Self-Control and Temptation

Fishbach reframes self-control as situational design. Like Odysseus tying himself to the mast, you can pre-commit to remove temptation before it appears — leaving your credit card at home, deleting your ex’s number. When temptation arises unbidden, use cognitive strategies: reframe the temptation (“the cake looks greasy”), distance yourself (“What would future-me want?”), or turn it into a rule (“I don’t eat sugary snacks on weekdays”). These methods align with behavioral economist Richard Thaler’s “choice architecture”: design default settings that help future you win.

Patience as Delayed Gratification

Patience, Fishbach notes, is essentially time-based self-control. Studies following children from Walter Mischel’s marshmallow test show that those who delayed gratification fared better years later — but not because of innate virtue. They had developed trust (believing the second marshmallow would come) and cognitive strategies (distraction). Adults too can train patience by committing decisions in advance or by reframing waiting as investment. Waiting, she reminds us, is suffering by definition (from the Latin root for “to endure”), yet the ability to wait transforms suffering into strength.

While motivation feels personal, it’s powerfully social. In the closing section, Fishbach shows that your goals live within a network of relationships that can amplify or drain your drive. Social influence isn’t limited to peer pressure — it works through convergence, coordination, and connection.

Conformity and Role Models

From classic Asch experiments to modern social media behavior, we conform to others both to belong and because we assume they know better. You might start running because friends do; your brain treats their goals as shared. Yet Fishbach warns that seeing others’ completed actions (not just their intentions) can sometimes reduce your effort — if your teammate already saved energy or donated, you may subconsciously relax. The optimal social influence comes from role models who express values (their goals) rather than merely show off outcomes (their actions).

Teamwork and Motivation

Working together brings both “social facilitation” and “social loafing.” An audience can make athletes or workers perform better—just as Norman Triplett’s cyclists rode faster when competing—but in big teams, effort diffuses. People clap softer in crowds. The antidotes: make individual contributions visible, keep groups small, and let members personalize their roles. Division of labor, when based on trust rather than avoidance, creates synergy — like pianist and page-turner, each essential, neither redundant.

Relationships as Goal Systems

Fishbach ends with the intimate face of motivation: love. Relationships thrive when partners support one another’s goals — emotionally, practically, and aspirationally. You drift toward people who facilitate your ambitions and away from those who hinder them. Feeling “known” — when someone understands your goals and core intentions — predicts relational satisfaction more strongly than knowing them. Even in friendships or workplaces, we stay with those who make our progress easier and more meaningful. As Fishbach puts it, successful relationships aren’t built on romance alone; they’re built on shared striving.

Ultimately, motivation isn’t solitary heroism. It’s communal progress — a dance between personal aspiration and collective support. In every goal we pursue, others are both our mirrors and our multipliers.