The people getting the most from AI aren’t chasing every new model. They’re building quiet habits.
Every few weeks, a new AI model launches and the internet loses its mind for a day. New benchmarks. New capabilities. New breathless threads about how everything has changed.
Meanwhile, the people I know who are actually getting real value from AI — the ones whose work has genuinely improved — aren’t paying much attention. They picked a tool months ago. They use it every day. They’ve gotten very good at knowing what it can do for them. And they’re not chasing the next thing.
That’s what a daily AI practice looks like. It’s boring. It’s effective. And almost nobody talks about it because there’s nothing to hype.
The biggest mistake people make with AI is trying to invent new workflows from scratch. They read about someone using AI to build an app in an afternoon, or generate a marketing strategy in ten minutes, and they try to replicate something they’ve never actually done before — using a tool they don’t yet understand.
Don’t do that. Start with work you already know well. If you write emails all day, start there. If you summarize reports, start there. If you research topics and synthesize information, start there. You need to be able to evaluate the output, and you can only do that in domains where you have judgment.
This is the part people skip. They want AI to do things they can’t do. But the real leverage is using AI to do things you can do — faster, more consistently, with less friction.
I’ve watched people bounce between ChatGPT, Claude, Gemini, Copilot, and Perplexity in the same week, never developing fluency with any of them. Each tool has different strengths, different interaction patterns, different sweet spots. Switching constantly means you never learn the grain of any single one.
Pick one. Use it daily for at least a month. Learn its tendencies — where it’s strong, where it drifts, what kind of instructions it responds to best. Develop muscle memory. Then, if you want to try another tool, you’ll have a baseline for comparison that’s grounded in actual experience rather than benchmark charts.
Vague inputs produce vague outputs. This is the single most important thing to understand about working with AI, and it never stops being true no matter how advanced the models get.
“Write me something about leadership” will get you generic paste. “I need to send a message to my team of eight about why we’re changing our project deadline from March to April. The tone should be honest but not apologetic. Keep it under 150 words” will get you something you can actually use.
The quality of your output is directly proportional to the specificity of your input. This isn’t a limitation of AI. It’s how communication works. The difference is that with AI, you can iterate instantly — refine your request, adjust the output, try again — with zero social cost.
The people who improve fastest with AI are the ones who pay attention to what works and what doesn’t. Not in a formal way — you don’t need a spreadsheet. Just notice. When the output is good, ask yourself what you did differently. When it’s bad, look at your prompt before blaming the model.
Over time, you develop an intuition for how to frame requests, how much context to provide, when to give examples, and when to let the model work with minimal instruction. That intuition is the real skill. It’s not “prompt engineering” in the Twitter-guru sense. It’s just the ordinary human process of learning to communicate clearly with a new kind of collaborator.
The cost of raw AI intelligence is falling fast. Compute that cost thousands of dollars a few years ago is now available for pennies. Models that required enterprise contracts are now free in a browser. The scarce resource was never the intelligence. It was the judgment to use it well.
Knowing what question to ask. Knowing when the output is subtly wrong. Knowing which parts of your work benefit from AI assistance and which parts need to stay entirely human. That’s insight, and no model provides it for you. It comes from experience, from domain knowledge, from the kind of accumulated understanding that can’t be downloaded.
A daily AI practice builds that insight. Not by chasing the frontier, but by showing up with the same tool, doing the same kinds of work, and paying attention to what you learn.
It’s not dramatic. On a typical day, I might use AI to draft an outline for something I’m writing, to think through the structure of a problem I’m stuck on, to summarize a long document I don’t have time to read closely, or to generate a first draft of something routine so I can spend my time editing rather than staring at a blank page.
None of that makes for a good LinkedIn post. There’s no “I built a startup in 48 hours” story. It’s just work — made slightly better, slightly faster, slightly less tedious. Compounded over months, the difference is substantial. But on any given day, it’s just another tool in the drawer.
That’s the point. The best AI practice is one you don’t think about much — because it’s become part of how you work.
I wrote about this idea first on LinkedIn, in a piece called Stop Chasing AI Headlines. Build a Small, Boring Practice. The response surprised me — it turns out a lot of people are quietly building exactly this kind of habit, even as the hype cycle roars on. I’ve also explored the theme in Intelligence Is Getting Cheap. Insight Isn’t. and on Medium, where I write longer essays about how AI is actually changing work.
If you garden, you already understand daily practice. The parallels between tending a garden and tending an AI workflow are closer than you’d think — patience, observation, and showing up consistently matter more than any single technique. More on that side of my life at Freighter View Farms.