Skip to content

An Older Woman's Chess Journey Posts

The Only Woman in the Room

An adults-only chess tournament was held in Columbus, Ohio, last month. Such events are few and far between, so my friend John and I decided to go. It was certainly a lot closer to where we live, in Michigan, than is the Charlotte Chess Center, where we attended a tournament last November.

Studying the list of twenty entrants beforehand, I saw that I was once again at the bottom, and the next strongest player, was rated considerably above me. Not only that, during casual between-rounds conversation, someone from his chess club pronounced him underrated. I had hoped that I might gain my first tournament win this time around, but I knew it would be a long shot, and sure enough I am still without a tournament win. But the three-game day was a very nice experience, and I was able to enjoy it more than I had my previous two tournaments. One reason, I think, is that I now felt very comfortable writing down my moves and hitting the clock. Moreover, the event was held in a public library meeting room, with a Sweetwaters coffee shop just a few yards away, so there was no worry about going hungry or having insufficient caffeine. Also, perhaps because of the small number of participants, people were very friendly, and I was able to have nice conversations with several of them between rounds. One was David Marks, who gave John and me helpful information about how we might start a club and host a tournament. Coincidentally, David was interviewed by Kevin Scull on the Chess Journeys podcast shortly after the tournament. 

Based on the list of entrants and the tournament’s small size, I had a feeling that I would be the only woman present. At my first tournament, which had included many children, I felt very self-conscious about my gender, my age, and my chess ability. Would the kids who played me think I looked like their crazy grandmother? At my second, adults-only tournament, I  wasn’t distracted by such thoughts. I just wanted to count how many women there were. I wasn’t able to get a precise number, but it appeared to be between 10 and 15 percent. 

In Columbus, I had a new feeling–that I was proud to be the only woman playing chess there, which felt almost as good as a win. The organizer, Jeff Shen, told me that he is working to bring more girls and women into the game. According to Jennifer Shahade’s essential book Chess Queens, between 2010 and 2020, female participation in US chess was between 11 and 14 percent, an increase over the 8 percent logged in 2000. In the best case scenario, there would have been one additional woman at the Columbus tournament. I do wish I could have scored at least one win, to demonstrate that women can not only play chess, but play well. Fortunately, my opponents and my teacher, reviewing the games, told me that I had played competitively. I am glad I was there and that I can now sit down at the board with a tournament opponent and attend to the business at hand without as much mental baggage about my gender as I had at first. Presumably my chess will improve with those extra brain cells at work. 

[An Older Woman’s Chess Journey  is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.]

Watching a Major Chess Tournament, Live

I splurged on a spectator ticket for the World Rapid and Blitz Tournament in New York!

I chose to attend on the last day, December 31, thinking that the final games would be the most exciting. But as you have probably heard, Magnus Carlsen did away with the excitement factor when it suited him, deciding–after three draws in overtime–that a “co-championship” with his opponent, Ian Nepomniachtchi, was the way to go. My ticket entitled me to attend the closing ceremony, but I skipped it: having watched five hours of exciting chess that was suddenly truncated for no immediately apparent reason, I was in no mood to celebrate the co-champions in the Open section. As for the Women’s section, I wouldn’t have minded seeing Ju Wenjun feted for a well-played match that went to its natural conclusion. She and her opponent in the final, Lei Tingjie, played to five straight draws, until Ju Wenjun finally won the second overtime game. 

Despite the unsatisfactory conclusion to the Open section, I enjoyed the day overall, although the spectator experience was unlike what I had seen in videos of some other tournaments (think the Speed Chess Championship in Paris, for example), in which the audience sits in a plush-looking auditorium with the players on a stage in a soundproofed area.

I said above that I had splurged, but my “hospitality” ticket was in the next category down from VIP. I spent most of my time on the second floor, one level above the action. I had discovered that when I was on the playing level, behind the velvet rope, it was exciting, but I couldn’t quite make out what was happening on the chessboards. The second floor had a balcony that overlooked the play. I watched the first games from there, and words cannot convey how exciting it was to see nearly all of today’s super grandmasters and other top players in one place. The last day was a good choice in that the women had played in a building across the street until then, but for the finals they were playing alongside the men, with the boards set up alternating by gender. I still couldn’t see what was happening on the boards from the balcony, though, so I went in search of an alternative. 

Earlier I had noticed a space labeled Commentary Room. The door was ajar, and the security person guarding it said I could go in. There were GM Maurice Ashley and GM Evgenij Miroshnichenko commentating! I sat in the front row of chairs for almost five hours, with a perfect sight line to the computer screen that was showing the action. At no time were there more than five other spectators in the room. My seat was directly across from GM Ashley, sitting only about six feet away, and our eyes met more than once. I was planning what I would say to him and how I would ask for his autograph during a break, but they never took one. For the most part, there wasn’t enough time for the commentators to do so between games, but even when there was a decent interval, they stayed put and continued to talk. They even interviewed a special guest during one of the breaks, Neil deGrasse Tyson, which was an utterly unanticipated thrill, especially from my front-row seat. GM Vishy Anand was sitting several rows behind me for part of the time, and on my way out for a break our eyes met as well. Were people wondering who this grey-haired woman was and what she was doing there?

GM Ashley did most of the commentating, and although I had already become a great admirer of his when I saw how he handled the task of emceeing the World Chess Championship, I have even more respect and appreciation for his work after my afternoon of intense exposure to it. In particular, he always chose to focus on the most interesting games, regardless of who was playing, rather than just default to the marquee matchups. Also, I loved his reaction to Magnus’ decision not to finish the tournament. We all saw Magnus start talking to Nepo after their third draw in overtime. The first assumption was that they were discussing the game, but then that didn’t seem to be the case. Everyone was puzzled, and then GM Ashley said that he would contact someone on the playing floor to find out what the story was. After he had listened intently on his earbud for a time, his normally impassive face clouded over, and then he relayed the news of the co-championship to us, his expression morphing into that of someone who had just eaten a lemon. That is the moment of the event that has stayed with me the most. 

[An Older Woman’s Chess Journey  is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.]

My Second OTB Tournament

In early November, I went to an ALTO (At Least Twenty-One) tournament at the Charlotte Chess Center! The experience lived up to the positive things I had heard about the event (The tournament winner, Nate Solon, has a great post about it.) It was wonderful to be in a silent room in which more than one hundred adults were concentrating over chess boards that had been set up for them in advance, with the clocks all programmed as well. All three of my opponents (I took two byes) were lovely people who were willing to discuss the game afterward. I lost all three, alas. I had really hoped that I would win just one game: the friend with whom I traveled did, and it was his first tournament. Still, I feel I handled the inevitably difficult emotions well and stayed focused on the positives. 

Until the Saturday night social hour. An experience I had there was much more trying than losing all my games. A participant approached me, shook my hand vigorously, and while laughing thanked me for having the lowest rating of all of the participants, so that he didn’t have to be in that position. 

Chess improvers: Be kind to one another. Because, as they say, everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. We all navigate the adult-chess-improver world trying or pretending not to care about our ratings, which we are able to do to a lesser or greater extent depending on our psychological makeup and what is going on in our lives. But making fun of someone you don’t even know with a lower rating than you is not ok. Those of us who weren’t born in a barn know this, but my experience shows that it needs to be said. Now I feel even more self-conscious about my rating, which was 101 going into the tournament (my online ratings indicate that this number should be higher). It’s hard not to feel that I have to win a game at the next one. I’m also worried because I’m having trouble letting go of this jaw-dropping incident, and I know that that just hurts me, not the perpetrator. I’m going to try to make writing about it here the last time I talk about it or think about it.

Chess improvers: Be kind to one another. Because, as they say, everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. As it happened, I was widowed about ten days before the tournament. It was not a sudden passing, and I decided to make the long-planned trip to Charlotte with a supportive friend, hoping that it would provide some diversion from my intense sadness. As it did, for the most part. Chess is so absorbing that, even while anticipating the loss of my husband, I had hoped that it would eventually be a safe harbor amid the tumultuous waves of grief. I even joked that when I remarried, it would be to chess. At this early stage I can say that sometimes it has been that safe harbor, but my emotions have been interfering with my play and study (with everything, actually) more than I would like. I’m persisting, though, because I know that this rewarding pastime and its largely supportive community will help see me through. 

An Older Woman’s Chess Journey  is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.

 

I Met a Chess Master!

I met my first chess master, and he gave me some great advice!

A friend invited me to help out at an elementary school event that was featuring a chess master talking about his new chess book for kids. I had heard of James Canty III, and jumped at the chance to attend even before I knew what my role would be. As it happened, I was to sit at a table and sell the books, a fitting assignment for a chess-loving retired librarian. 

Thanks to technical difficulties with the bookstore’s credit card swiping gadget, there was a good bit of downtime, and so I had the opportunity to ask James all kinds of questions. I hadn’t really prepared any, but I was kindly introduced to him as the person who runs the Ann Arbor Women and Girls Chess group, so I started–somewhat fretfully–by telling him that I was discouraged because the group had not yet reached critical mass. James asked me how I was promoting the group, and he had many concrete suggestions about how to expand those efforts, including branching out to Instagram (here’s his) and adding members to my Facebook group by combing other local chess groups’ Facebook pages for potential attendees. He even friended me on Facebook, right then and there–a chess master! He seemed to have firsthand experience of how hard this can be, saying that it would come down to my having to do something similar to cold-calling people like a telemarketer. Not a pleasant picture, but I appreciated all of these ideas and the realism that accompanied them. I understand now that when I decided to start a women’s chess group, I thought mostly about the women playing chess, not the amount of promotion I would have to do to unearth them.

[Scroll down to the end of the post for a link to ChessGoals and a coupon code for 30% off their courses.]

Of course, I also wanted to consult James about my chess, such as it is. He asked what my rating was, and I had to tell him the bizarre and embarrassing number that is visible to all on the Internet: 101! (We were talking about tournament chess, so I gave him my USCF rating, only later realizing that telling him my lichess and chess.com ratings would have shown me in a slightly better light.) James did not bat an eye or look down on me–he just breezily said that all I need is one win and then I’ll be on my way! He added that whoever loses to me will be very, very angry (because no one will expect a person with a 101 rating to be able to play). 

James went on to give me advice about how to think during a game and avoid blunders. He also said that if I kept playing, improvement would definitely come. It wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it that made a strong, lasting impression on me. His tone was completely matter-of-fact and pervaded with confidence. Like a newly sharpened knife, his manner cut through all of my silly agonizing about whether I could keep improving at my age and gave me a new, more positive attitude toward my chess journey. We didn’t talk specifically about the agony of being defeated, but it was clear to me that the mindset he suggested would go a long way toward easing those feelings. I was going to get better–I just needed to keep playing and think carefully about each move. 

James’ book, Become a Chess Champion: Learn the Basics from a Pro, is beautifully illustrated (by Brian Lambert) and written in a clear and concise style. I particularly like the two-page spread “Questions to Remember,” which contains a fuller version of the instructions James gave me for how to think during a game. So, yes, I sold myself a copy of the book, and his inscription included the words, “Keep practicing and you will improve!” (he underlined the last three words). From my vantage point at the book table, I was moved to see that he wrote personalized inscriptions for everyone. 

What an inspiring evening! I can only hope that I didn’t hurt James’ feelings toward the end of the event. I heard people asking him which chess luminaries he knew, and he mentioned that Hikaru Nakamura was someone he knew and texted with. Omg! “Does that mean I’m only one degree of separation from Hikaru?” I gushed. James confirmed with his characteristic graciousness and a chuckle, so clearly he was fine with it. He does a lot of chess commentating online, so please check him out and you will see what I mean.Thanks for a lovely experience, James!

An Older Woman’s Chess Journey  is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.

 

Three Losses, Many Wins

I’m no Tarot expert, but I do pull a card every morning, and I enjoy reading about its meaning and what it might signify about the day ahead. On the first day of my first over-the-board chess tournament, I drew The Fool, which immediately brought a smile to my face. “You’ve got that right. What am I even doing here, where I will probably be at or near the bottom of the lowest-rated section? I hate all those people who encouraged me to do this!” 

As the graphic shows, The Fool card depicts an utterly carefree young man eagerly setting off on a journey, not noticing that he is about to walk off a cliff. But the card is not a warning; instead it celebrates opportunities and beginnings, urging you to take a leap of faith, whether you think you’re ready or not.

Ok, universe. Here I come. 

[Scroll down to the end of the post for a link to ChessGoals and a coupon code for 30% off their courses.]

The first game was scheduled for 11 am in a time zone one hour earlier than mine. For this extreme lark, that meant a long wait from my wake-up time. It was agonizing. But not as agonizing as the first 10 minutes of the “game,” before my 12-year-old opponent showed up. He immediately went to the official and asked if he could leave the room to power off an electronic device (required). He did, but as soon as he returned that same device made some noises. I assumed—and, part of me, I admit, hoped—that he would have to forfeit the game. The rules about this appear to be quite strict. But the arbiter told him to take 10 minutes off his time and that it was up to us to watch the clock and enforce it. Really? I doubted that time off the clock would hurt the game of this high-rated kid, who would go on to place 5th in the tournament and win $167.

My hand shook each time I raised it to move a piece and write down my move. Before long I was down a minor piece, then two pawns, and so on. But I did hang in there until the 37th move, when I was checkmated.

But I didn’t feel sad, as I had expected. I had gotten something I had wished for since first seeing The Queen’s Gambit—to sit in a (nearly) silent room filled with people playing this marvelous game and studiously recording their moves and those of their opponent. The room was smaller than I expected—my division had only 30 players. But what a diverse crowd it was! Chinese and Indian children were the most numerous, including one who needed to sit on a thick book to reach the board! There was one other adult woman who was perhaps half my age. I think the number of females of all ages was about 10 percent. There were a couple of adult men, including one who was impeccably dressed, in a suit, tie, and suspenders. He turned out to be a software developer from Madison, Wisconsin, and I was paired with him in the second round.

This was my favorite game of the three I played. I didn’t win—he ultimately got a two-pawn advantage—but for the most part it was a long, competitive game with no distractions, except for the two little girls playing next to us, who had a touch-move dispute involving a king.

My third and final game was against another boy. He was punctual but fiddled with a pen/flashlight for the entire time. One time he started blinking the light on and off, until I glared at him. The worst was when he dropped it onto the board and it hit the pieces. I looked over at the arbiter, but I was losing at that point and didn’t want it to seem like I was looking for an excuse for my poor performance.

This whole game was a blunderfest by both sides. I captured one of his rooks early, which was cheering. Fortunately, he didn’t notice that one of mine was hanging for several moves before I rescued it. In the end I opened the door to victory for him by blundering a knight, which he did notice, and it was downhill from there.

Even though I fully expected to lose all my games due to my low rating, my fear had been that the losses might put me on the verge of tears, or worse. Instead, though, I felt happy and almost giggly. It made me laugh to think how shocked the kids I played must have been to find that their opponent was their grandmother’s age. And I had played in an over-the board tournament for the first time! By the second game I no longer trembled when I moved a piece, and my notation was improving.I also began to feel the love for playing over-the-board that I’ve heard expressed by many but hadn’t experienced myself because I have played hundreds of games online and only a few over the board. 

My other fears—of falling prey to a gambit and losing in fewer than 10 moves, of being the first game in the room to finish, of blundering my queen, of not realizing when I was in check—proved to be unfounded. Plus, I still loved chess and looked forward to analyzing the games and going over them with my coach. I had also had the privilege of being an advocate for the Women in Chess Foundation during the event. I introduced myself and the organization to the tournament personnel and let them know that I was available to any female player who expressed a need for support due to misconduct. Fortunately, no one did.

Regardless of the outcome, I know that my next tournament will be a much better experience, especially without all of the first-time baggage. I can’t wait!

An Older Woman’s Chess Journey  is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.

 

Finding and Building Chess Community

In his aptly titled book Perpetual Chess Improvement, Ben Johnson designated “community” as the fourth pillar of chess improvement (the first three being playing serious games, analyzing your games, and practicing tactics). But it can be difficult to find or build that needed chess community. It is easy to find strangers with whom to play online, and there are plenty of coaches who will work with you virtually. But those one-on-one interactions don’t constitute community.

In retrospect, I think that I was seeking community, in a sense, when I started this blog. I had many things to say about my chess journey and many questions to ask, but no place to direct them. 

I was thrilled when I learned that there was a chess club meeting weekly in the town right next to mine. My community! But did I rush out to join at the first opportunity? No, I chose instead to torment myself with anxieties about it. What if I’m the poorest player there? I had no shortage of other excuses: it’s in the evening, whereas I’m a lark who is starting to wind down when the club is ramping up. No one will want to play with me, and those who do will try Scholar’s Mate and other traps, checkmating me in under ten moves. 

[Scroll down to the end of the post for a link to ChessGoals and a coupon code for 30% off their courses.]

At the same time that I was contemplating attending the chess club, people were encouraging me to go to a tournament. Actually I have wanted to sample the atmosphere of a large chess gathering like that ever since my first viewing of The Queen’s Gambit, but until today all I had done was look through the multitude of tournament announcements and come up with reasons why each tournament isn’t right for me. The time control is too short, the venue is inconvenient, it’s on a holiday weekend when roads will be crowded, etc, etc. 

Eventually, two things galvanized me into getting out to the chess club. One was the realization that, if I was being this hesitant about going to a casual club meeting, I would never get myself to a tournament. The other was that I have had a dream of starting a chess club for girls and women in my town, and it was time to realize it. It would make sense to do some networking at the other club first. So I went! The networking was successful–having met the club leader that evening, it was easy to email him afterward and ask if I could publicize my women’s group on his club’s Facebook page. And even though I was anxious and overwhelmed that first night, I felt at home amid all the chess talk. Many members were full of tales of their recent trip to the Chicago Open and the cheater who had been caught there. 

My second trip to the club was even better than the first, not least because the ice had been broken. I had heard that it would be a real joy (not to mention instructive) to play over the board and do an in-person post-mortem of the game with your opponent, and it was great to finally experience that. In the meantime, I had held the first meeting of my women and girls group, in a room reserved at the local public library. We had five at our first meeting, including a seven-year-old girl and her mother. It was marvelous to think that I might be helping to convey the joy of chess to a young girl. 

These first small steps toward building community around my chess somehow gave me the push I needed to register for a tournament, finally. I will be attending the Chicago Class Open later this month. Expect a debrief in my next post 🙂

An Older Woman’s Chess Journey  is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.

 

 



Is My Brain Lazy?

Is calculation largely a matter of willpower, or mental discipline? This question haunts my attempts to improve at chess. I ask this when I am calculating and visualizing a sequence of moves. “I take X, he takes Y, I take Z,” I think, for example, and then it feels like a white curtain or gray fog has overtaken my brain and made further thinking impossible. But is it really impossible? When this happens I fear that I am just being lazy, that if I exerted enough willpower I would be able to calculate the sequence further. Of course, I am not talking about grandmaster-level calculation here, but during the recent Candidates Tournament I was surprised and relieved to hear GM David Howell say that he was glad he wasn’t the one who had to do the calculation involved in a position that had been reached. To me this seemed to imply that he at least feels extended calculation to be extremely onerous, although we know that he would likely be up to the task. 

The only other experience I’ve had with that white curtain/gray fog feeling is when listening to speech in a foreign language that is at or just above my proficiency level in it. I will have been conversing adequately for a certain period of time, when suddenly a switch appears to go off and my brain just will not parse any more. I may catch some of the prominent words in the sentence, but a mental fogginess prohibits me from putting the pieces together any longer. The feeling is similar to what goes on when I am playing chess, except that with foreign languages it seems to be a matter of exhaustion after a period of successful communication. Certainly in chess I become mentally tired if a game goes on longer than I am used to, but this lazy brain syndrome can happen long before I have played enough chess to have brain-fatigue. 

[Scroll down to the end of the post for a link to ChessGoals and a coupon code for 30% off their courses.]

In addition to playing games and analyzing them, lately I have been doing the lichess Puzzle Streak as a warm up. My coach and I do it together sometimes, too, and he makes me say out loud the string of moves necessary to solve the puzzle. One thing that has helped me a lot when we do them together is that, when I get to where I can’t think anymore, he just calmly tells me it’s ok, start over from the beginning. He urges me, when doing a puzzle on my own, not to make a move until I have figured out the whole sequence. I know he’s right, but that means calculating and visualizing, and (I whine), it’s so much easier just to make that first check and see where the pieces end up. When I do the latter, I inevitably get some puzzles wrong. But I do mostly know better than to just make a check in an actual game without at least calculating my opponent’s possible responses.

I usually walk my dog before starting the chess puzzles portion of my morning routine. Sometimes during the walk I actually think to myself, “Today, I will be careful when doing my puzzles and not move until I have made a thorough calculation.” And then when I sit down and face that first puzzle, I either don’t try to calculate beyond one move or do so half-heartedly when I see it requires more than a couple of moves and give up before completing the sequence. This seems to indicate that I can’t will myself to make this effort just by some casual self-talk. But if I have not already exhausted my mental resources, I think I should be able to focus better.

I’m also wondering how my idea of willpower relates to our success or failure to apply a blunder check, and I’m interested in CM Azel Chua’s theory that we need a different approach than “Checks, captures, threats,” partly because that requires too much brain power over the course of a long game. (Hear him talk about this and other fascinating chess topics on Ben Johnson’s Perpetual Chess podcast and on Chess Goals’ No Pawn Intended.) But those are topics for another day. 

An Older Woman’s Chess Journey  is a proud affiliate of ChessGoals–if you use the link here to purchase from them and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off their courses, and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.

New Online Courses for Chess Novices

As I begin writing this, on Eclipse Day, it feels like we are in a great period for chess. The first four days of the Candidates tournament are in the books, and there have been exciting games and unexpected results in both the Women’s and Men’s divisions. I wonder if the organizers planned the first rest day strategically, so the chess action wouldn’t be, uh, eclipsed by the celestial event. Whatever the case, I am just hopeful that some non-chess players, especially women, will catch wind of the tournament and become intrigued enough by our compelling game to give it a try. 

I’m in my third year as an adult chess improver, and I am gaining rating points steadily, if slowly. I am becoming mostly ok with that, but one thing I have noticed is that many of the online chess courses on offer are aimed at people with ratings above 800 or 1000, if not even higher. I have a coach and plenty of self-study materials, but like many of us, when I’m not playing I am doing other chess-adjacent activities, one of which is buying materials that seem to promise–or even guarantee–improvement. In the case of books, it took me a while to realize that I had bought a number of those that exceeded my current chess understanding and ability. Unlike most books, courses for sale often do suggest the range of player strengths for which they are appropriate, but I suspect that some of them exaggerate the lower end to gain more buyers. Fortunately the return policies tend to be generous.

Thus I truly have been overjoyed to see that within the past several months three (3!) courses have been released that really are appropriate for the novice level, and I’m eager to introduce them in this post.

GM Noël Studer’s Beginner Chess Mastery starts with the true basics, including how to set up the board, piece movement, and notation. Those familiar with these fundamentals can simply skip this section (called “Learn the Rules”) altogether, but remember that this information is there when you want to give a non-chess-playing friend or family member a marvelous gift.

The next section is ambitiously titled “How to Reach 1200 Online” (chess.com rapid). An advanced beginner may feel tempted to skip some of this section when they see that it contains subsections devoted to each piece’s strengths and weaknesses, but I recommend watching them all. I certainly found some hidden gems that I wish I had known about before now.

Noël is an excellent teacher and writer of educational material, and his delivery is crisp and conversational. He is very aware of the psychological pitfalls that a player can fall into and offers thoughtful insights about how to deal with these. I have not finished viewing the course yet–it is very comprehensive, even including opening repertoires for both colors–but I am looking forward to delving into the many remaining sections and reaping the benefits of the hard work that Noël clearly put into this.

Next, I was pleased to see that ChessGoals had released a course called “Beating Beginners: Move by Move.”  (Disclosure: The link to the course in the previous sentence is an affiliate link. If you use the link to purchase the course and enter “dawn” as the coupon code, you will receive 30% off and I will receive a commission. Purchasing via an affiliate link doesn’t cost you any extra, and I only recommend products and services I trust.) This course is appropriate for players rated below 800 USCF (or chess.com blitz) as well as those below roughly equivalent ratings in other time controls on chess.com and on lichess; specifics are on the course’s home page. I wondered what kind of approach would be taken by a course whose title focused on defeating others. Well, the clue is in the other half of the title, “Move by Move”: this course presents 30 entire chess games, all annotated in great detail in downloadable PGNs, and a video walking you through each game. The first opponent is rated 511 and the final one 792, so the level of play goes up very gradually as you work your way through. The mix of who has which color pieces and what openings are played has clearly been carefully crafted. If you have not listened to NM Matt Jensen’s presentation of chess information before, you are in for a treat. His extremely clear instruction is delivered in a calm and thoughtful manner, and he always provides a succinct explanation of new concepts as they arise. He frequently interjects information on the percentage of the time a certain opening or move is seen at the club level, and in addition to the actual move made he often addresses the question of whether another one might or might not have worked and why. 

The other novice course released recently is “Can I Take It? A Beginner’s Guide to Capturing Pieces,” created by WFM Laura Smith and NM Dan Heisman, which is available on Chessable. This short course is appropriate for early beginners. It doesn’t explain how the pieces move, but it starts by explaining the piece values and direct attacks. The final section is on Advanced Counting. This would also be a good gift for a chess beginner in your life. I feel that one picks up much of what is in this course while actually playing, but studying these concepts in this context would save beginners a lot of the heartache associated with learning while playing.

 

Review: Two Resources about Chess and Mindfulness

 

As an adult chess improver with a longtime interest in Eastern spirituality, when I heard that a book called Mindful Chess was coming out, I was thrilled. Ok; I was thrilled once I got over the disappointment that someone had used a title that I had thought might fit the book that is gestating inside me. Now that I have read GM Paul van der Sterren’s Mindful Chess, though, I’m just delighted that he has given the chess community this readable account of his experience of two paths, that of chess and that of mindfulness. That is not all, however. At nearly the same time that Mindful Chess is being published, GM van der Sterren is also releasing In Black and White: The Chess Autobiography of a World Champion Candidate, the English translation of his 2011 Dutch autobiography. Both Mindful Chess and In Black and White have just been published by New in Chess. Amazon will have the autobiography at the end of February and Mindful Chess in mid-March. Ben Johnson has also just released a very in-depth interview of GM van der Sterren on the latest episode of his Perpetual Chess podcast. It’s a great time to learn about this fascinating member of the chess community.

Serendipitously, as I was reading Mindful Chess I learned that there was a mindfulness course consisting of video and audio tracks for chess players, created by Dr. Benjamin Portheault, a performance coach for mental athletes who specializes in chess. Mindfulness for the Tournament Player is built around the schedule of a chess tournament, with guided meditations for each stage of the event. A bonus feature helps you create a meditation based on one of your own best chess performances. I was especially moved by the lovingkindness mediations he includes in the section for after the tournament.

I’m really glad that mindfulness is becoming a part of the chess scene; if ever there was a pastime whose participants needed mindfulness, chess is it. I had been meditating daily for three years when I got into chess, but the 20-minute time slot that I had been using for meditation was soon more than usurped by my morning chess game and post-game analysis. I rationalized that chess required such intense concentration that it could replace meditation, which is true, to some extent. While I was working full time there wasn’t time for both in the morning, but I vowed to restart meditation once I retired, and that time has come. These resources–and the struggle I am having with how I feel after a chess loss–have convinced me to get my cushion out once again.

Mindful Chess is, fittingly, organized like a chess game, from setting up the pieces through the endgame. Each segment consists of a series of short essays in which van der Sterren talks about how he got into meditation toward the end of his career as a competitive chess player, while weaving in helpful explanations of the Buddhist concepts of impermanence, suffering, and no-self. He describes his first trying experience at a long meditation retreat, with insightful analysis of his pain points that I strongly recommend for anyone in a similar situation. After retiring from competitive chess, GM van der Sterren even taught meditation for a few years, but now his journey includes more chess than mindfulness. In addition to his discussions probing the Buddhist concepts mentioned above, his explanations of these evolutions make Mindful Chess a truly engaging read.

When you put down Mindful Chess, you will be eager to get started using mindfulness on your chess journey, and that is where Dr. Portheault’s course comes in. The two complement and reinforce each other so well, for example, where GM van der Sterren refers to waves of anger breaking on the rocks of mindfulness, Dr. Portheault refers to transforming the stormy sea in which we find ourselves after a loss into a realization that we were the calm ocean all along. Even if, like me, you have not yet been to a tournament, the meditations–especially the segments “Before the Game,” “After a Loss,” and “After a Win”–are easily adaptable to whenever you play your regular non-tournament games. 

No one is claiming that adding mindfulness to your chess routine will increase your rating, but there is no doubt that it will make you able to weather a challenging journey with far more equanimity, especially with the aid of these two resources.  

 

Mantras for Chess Players

Ambition without Expectations Recently GM Noël Studer published a blog post with this title, which led me once again to reflect on the need for a Buddhist mentality when you are grappling with the challenging pastime of chess. I am thinking of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism: that Life is suffering, that Desire (attachment) is the cause of suffering, that there is a Way to let go of suffering, and that following the Way is the way to let go of suffering. Every time we desire things to be other than they are, we suffer. As Noël writes, “Reality minus Expectations equals Well Being.” While I know that I will never achieve this mentality perfectly, I like the way it reminds me to try to let go of that intense focus on results in the form of wins and improved rating. 

You Win or You Learn One hears this a lot in the adult improver world, and it is a helpful reminder that the letter L can stand for more than loss. But I have to admit that I become impatient with it from time to time, because sometimes it seems like the only thing to learn from a game is that I can still blunder my queen or mouse slip or play too quickly when I think I see an amazing tactic that is really an amazing way to lose a piece. 

Connect to Vanquish Shame I heard words to this effect on a recent podcast from The Ono Zone. The idea is from Brené Brown via Ono’s wife, Yara. I know, shame is a heavy word and might feel a bit strong to apply to how you feel about your plummeting (or not-rising-as-fast-as-you-think-it-should) rating or your latest loss. But when we try to figure out why it can be so damned devastating to lose at this silly game when losses at other games just don’t match that feeling in intensity, it seems to have something to do with chess being considered a game of intelligence. Even if we know that this is an over-generalization, it is easy for a loss to tap into feelings of shame over not being smart enough or good enough or worse. This can lead to a strong temptation to go crawl in a hole or under the covers or inside a bottle. But the only thing that will help shame is exposing it to the light of day, in the form of a trusted friend or fellow walker on the adult improver path. This is what makes the chess Twitter discussions of failure and frustration so precious. There are people who have felt just as you do, and they are always there to listen. 

Progress not Perfection This comes from the Twelve Step programs and is an excellent principle to have in your quiver. But it’s not too helpful for adult improvers, who tend to decide what progress means instead of accepting it. And we often think that what it means is a bigger ratings jump—or even title—than is possible for us to achieve in the amount of time that we have decided it should take. 

Anyone Can Beat Anyone Lots of people say this, but when I heard Sara Herman say it, it really stuck with me. Of course this can be taken in two ways—you can beat anyone and anyone can beat you. Adult improvers seem to me to be a glass-half-empty bunch, so we are probably inclined to think of the latter interpretation. From where we sit, we know it is highly unlikely that we would ever beat the grandmasters at the top of the chess heap. But I have found some constructive ways to think about “anyone can beat you.” One is to remind myself not to get too giddy after taking someone’s queen or getting far ahead in material some other way. Strangely, even though I think that I always feel very humble about the little chess ability I have and that I never relax, feeling certain of victory in a game, I actually do relax. I have given back that queen later in the game countless times and seen a double-digit lead in material peter away to nothing or even to a balance in the opponent’s favor. I have really tried to watch for evidence of my relaxing during a game, and I’ve noticed that I have had the opening principles of Develop, Control the Center, and Get Your King to Safety so drilled into me that when I see the opponent not doing any of this I subconsciously decide that I can beat him. Well, guess what? Anyone can beat anyone.