What Don’t You Know?
A story that’s always impressed me is the one about how Richard Feynmann prepared himself for an Exam. He bought a blank notebook, entitled it “What I don’t know” and over the next few weeks completely organized everything he knew about physics. He reconstructed it, reconnected the parts of it into the whole. When he was done, he had a complete outline of what he knew about physics.
Then why the title? Because you can’t begin to identify what you don’t know, until you have identified what you do know.
So here’s your challenge: over the next few weeks, re-create this notebook, but about chess. Document what you know.
For openings, write out the moves you remember, at the end of that, write down the typical plans for each side. What are the typical tactics each side has to be aware of (e. g., shots against the g5 Bishop in the Cambridge Springs) and how do you exploit or secure against them? How should each side handle the transition to middlegame?
For middlegames, what basic tactical methods (pin fork, etc.) do you know well enough to see them in your mind? What cues may you find in a position for their existence? (e. g. two pieces one square apart horizontally cues possible pawn fork, rook fork, etc.)
For endgames, what rules do you remember for pawn endgames, rook endgames? Which positions do you have memorized? What’s the winning procedure? Basic checkmates? Typical maneuvers and traps?
And now that you’ve finished with the easy part: Set up any chess position (can be just a random piece arrangement or a position from a game you’ve never seen before — doesn’t matter, so long as it’s not one you’ve thought about) on your board. What thoughts cross your mind about it? Speak out loud into a recorder, have someone else write what you say, or write it yourself. Be honest. Don’t do it the way you think you should; do it the way you do it in a tournament (have your clock running, just to help with the atmosphere).
The first part of the exercise will hopefully show you what you know, and from that you can start to see the shape of what you don’t know. Can’t remember many opening moves? Either memorize more or switch to openings that are governed more by principles than specific moves (King’s Indian Attack, Paulsen Sicillian are two that come to mind quickly, but there are more). Don’t have a large store of middlegame or endgame techniques? Game collections like Informant give them to you in raw form; databases can help you find mammoth amounts of material pertaining to similar positions. Play them over and get a feel for more positions. Endgame books like Silman’s or Flear’s or Muller’s, or Shereshevsky’s trilogy, or Averbakh’s even larger set give you many more sources for patterns for your mind.
But the most important work will probably be on the last part of your book. Examine the copy of your thinking process. Look it over closely; you’re looking for cracks where good moves, either for yourself or your opponent, can escape your notice. You’re looking for what you use to form your plan (and if you don’t plan, mark that down as a major flaw right now) and what you may be missing. Take longer than just the few minutes you spent the first time, use a computer to help you. Compare your move selection process with Purdy’s, or Silman’s, or Kotov’s, or Tisdal’s, or any other documented process you can find. Where do you differ from them? Is the difference significant? Can you change your approach slightly to include it, or do you have to unlearn and start over?
Yes, this is sketchy. It has to be; to treat this subject in detail would take more than one book, and even then it wouldn’t be sufficient, because every individual case is different. I can (and probably will, before I’ve finished with this topic) tell you how I learn, but that won’t necessarily apply to you. I’ll return to this topic with more details several times, and still won’t cover it in depth.
The point of this is: now that you’ve done all this heavy lifting (and if it takes less than a month, you’re either a beginner at this game, a liar, or have an awful lot of spare time) you’ve got the raw material in hand to begin a serious improvement program.
Pick a flaw you’ve identified and fix it. I don’t think it matters a great deal which one you start with, but if for some reason you really need to create a priority list, go over your last dozen or so serious games with this notebook full of identified flaws beside you. Every time you see an instance of one of the deficiencies you’ve listed show up in a game, mark it. When you’re done, the one with the most marks wins — start with it and fix it. Pick the next flaw. Rinse Lather. Repeat.
No it’s not easy. Anybody who told you it would be is either lying or a natural GM. Either way, it doesn’t apply to us. You got your map. Start hiking.