I hate that word: lucky. It cheapens a lot of hard work. — Peter Dinklage
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
What feeling does this quote bring up for you?
A Word That Shrinks the Story
Peter Dinklage’s irritation with “lucky” starts with what the word does to a narrative: it compresses years of effort into a moment of chance. When someone is labeled lucky, the listener is invited to imagine a shortcut—an accidental win—rather than a long arc of discipline, rejection, learning, and persistence. In that sense, the word doesn’t just describe an outcome; it edits the process out of the picture. From there, his quote becomes less about semantics and more about respect. It asks whether we are willing to acknowledge the full, often unglamorous machinery behind achievement instead of reaching for a tidy explanation that requires little attention.
Hard Work Is Often Invisible
Part of why “lucky” feels insulting is that so much labor is private: late nights, practice runs, failed drafts, and small decisions that compound over time. Outsiders typically see the public moment—the role, the promotion, the breakthrough—without seeing the backlog of effort that made the person ready when the opportunity arrived. This gap in visibility encourages casual explanations. Consequently, “lucky” becomes a social shortcut for describing what we didn’t witness. Dinklage’s complaint pushes back against that shortcut and insists that unseen work still counts as the central cause, not a footnote.
Chance Exists, But It Isn’t the Whole Cause
Even while rejecting the label, the quote doesn’t require denying randomness. Opportunities do appear unevenly, and timing can matter. Yet Dinklage’s point is that chance is rarely sufficient on its own; it interacts with preparation. As Louis Pasteur famously put it in an 1854 lecture often paraphrased as “chance favors the prepared mind,” luck tends to amplify what readiness has already built. So the issue becomes proportion. When we call a hard-won outcome “luck,” we misassign credit—treating the spark as if it were the fuel, and the moment as if it were the whole journey.
The Cost of “Luck” as a Compliment
Because “lucky” can sound positive, people use it as praise without noticing its side effect: it can subtly invalidate skill. Over time, that framing can erode motivation and identity, especially for people who have had to work against extra barriers. If the world insists your achievements are luck, it becomes harder to claim competence without seeming defensive. In addition, the label can be used to avoid learning from someone’s success. If it was “just luck,” then there’s no need to study their habits, decisions, or craft. That makes the word comforting for observers, but diminishing for the person who did the work.
A Fairer Language for Achievement
Moving from critique to alternative, Dinklage’s quote invites better vocabulary: “earned,” “well-prepared,” “skilled,” “consistent,” or simply “hard-won.” These words keep the causal chain intact and make room for nuance—recognizing both opportunity and effort without collapsing one into the other. Ultimately, reframing success this way also changes how we treat our own goals. Instead of waiting to be “lucky,” we can focus on controllables: practice, feedback, resilience, and relationships. The outcome may still involve timing, but the dignity remains in the work that made the timing matter.