Talent
February 14, 2000
5:02 a.m.
Just what the heck is talent, and what does it mean to us? Stephen Leigh's got me thinking about this. If you haven't read his last post, I suggest you go do that now. Done it? Ok. I'm ready to get going. Hang with me here, okay? I think this is going to go someplace before it's all said and done, and it might even be worth it by then. Hope I'm right ... We talk about talent. We read about it, we bandy the word about as if it were something we all understand. It's that thing, you know? It's that ephemeral ingredient that we point to when we say someone is really good. And then our conversation degenerates into the evocation of Michael Jordan and parables about basketball. Well, you know what? For every Michael Jordan, there's a Bill Wennington. Bill Wennington, for those who may not know, is a guy who has made a career in the National Basketball Association. He's played 13 seasons. Never averaged more than 18 minutes per game, or more than 7 points a game. He's, well, he's not the greatest jumper the game has ever seen. His most impressive statistic appears to be the fact that he averages about a personal foul for every 4 minutes he plays. He is, after all, seven feet tall and weights 290 pounds. He is not the most talented player to ever lace on a pair of high-tops. He does, however, wear three championship rings. There are a lot of high-profile players with more talent than Bill Wennington that can't make that statement. So, where is Bill Wennington's talent? You might point out that his talent is in his physical stature. It's certainly what he's used to stay in the league. But, that would mean that every seven foot hulk in the world should be playing ball for someone--and that the ones lucky enough to get himself on the right team at the right moment should be wearing a handful of championship rings. Sorry, that doesn't wash. Too many data points say that being seven feet tall and weighing 290 pounds isn't enough talent to get into the NBA. There are also way too many examples of guys who have all the talent and the physical accouterments to make it that don't pan out. Jerome Harmon was a kid from Gary, Indiana that played for the university of Louisville for a year or two, then tried to go to the NBA. Jason Osborne was a kid from Louisville that did the same thing. Both were highly gifted. Neither are playing. The bottom line is Bill Wennington plays in the NBA because he's willing to make the sacrifice. Yes, he has whatever talent is required. But he is playing because he understood the price he had to pay, and he's paid it. And he keeps paying it every year. Stephen Leigh says he's not overly talented. Bullshit. Sorry. I don't use profanity here as a general rule, but it just had to be said. Stephen Leigh has talent. Read Dark Water's Enbrace or Speaking Stones. These are not works by an untalented writer. Based on the first 50 pages or so, Silence is going to be another winner. Stephen Leigh is a gifted individual. Talent, though, is thought of as some natural extension of who we are. It's what we're good at. It's what we enjoy. A basketball player's talent is made up of physical capabilities and the ability to react instinctively to what's happening on the court. I've played a lot of basketball. Bottom line: most of that "instinctive" stuff is learned reaction. But I'll admit that not all of it is. I'll note also that a lot a player's physical talents can be developed, too. Still. A writer's talent is made up of the words we chose and the messages we evoke. Yes, I think some people are gifted and the words just come to their heads in fresh ways that make us all jealous. But the messages we evoke come from our worldview and from our understanding of mechanics. Mechanics can be learned. It's easier for some of us, harder for others. And, maybe Stephen is right. Maybe some people can't possibly make the transition to learn Story. I'm not convinced of that. But I'll concede the point. The way I would phrase it, though, is that some people are not willing to pay the price they need to pay to learn Story. This is not a criticism, though. the price for most of us to learn Story is very high. The key element to our talent as writers, I think, lies in our worldview. This is the thing that is unique to all of us. And it's the part that I think of when I said that "we all have this talent--competitive writers find ways to access this without being either afraid or embarrassed of it." This may be the biggest point of all. The ability to sidestep that barrier to your true worldview--to access your feelings and your understanding of how things work--and mold it into a shape that can be presented to a reader and to actually present it may be the true root of talent. A competitive writer is one who plays the game in a competition with themselves (thanks for the joggle on the sword elbow, Zette). They are able to use their vocabulary and the glory of the language to build pictures in other people's heads. But mostly they are able to do that through the uncanny ability to map their unique worldview into their understanding of story, and in that process find a way to let their characters make their points. Does that makes sense? But, just like talent alone wasn't enough to find Jerome Harmon a role in the NBA, talent alone will not put a writer into more the occasional print. Stephen Leigh has enough talent to support a career in the field. He has a love of the job and he has a work ethic that ensures he gets material out the door. Stephen Leigh makes the sacrifices he's needed to make. Maybe Stephen has been lucky at times, and maybe he has been unlucky at times. I don't know everything about his career. But just as Bill Wennington is a professional, and just like Michael Jordan was (didn't think I was going to miss bringing him in here, didja?), Stephen Leigh is a professional, and his work and his viewpoint show it. And that's what I want. I want to be a professional writer. I want to access my talent. I want to use the skills I've developed. And I want to put them together in away that no one else could. Why is the question of what is talent important? And it is important, you know? The question of what is talent and what is skill is vital to new writers because of the comment I made at the beginning of this thing. We see talent as a natural extension of ourselves. This means a part of our success is outside our control. I agree. But the question begs--what part is talent? If I can decide what comprises talent, and what comprises skill, then I know what I don't have to work on. But we keep seeming to fall back on the idea that talent is something natural (i.e. requires no work). This bugs me. I believe in talent. Don't get me wrong. But, I'm going to make a bold statement here. I believe that for most people talent is whatever skill we're willing to put the time into developing. You see, I believe I could have played professional basketball. (That sound you hear in the background is Lisa choking in laughter). I believe that if I had put my complete focus on it when I was young enough to have made a difference, played ball twelve hours a day like most of the guys that are playing professional basketball, that I would have been able to play at that level. Same thing for professional baseball. The time is past me now. But I could have done it. Don't tell me I couldn't have. There are people with my physical skills that have played professional basketball (and a lot with less than my physical skill that have played baseball). But while I was in high school I could only handle playing three or four hours at a time before I got bored with it, and that wasn't enough to be competitive with the kids that went to the next level. Now, I'm sure I'll make my next pass at the NAW journals and find that I've said you have to write twelve hours a day to make it in the writing business. That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that I think its wise to look at everything as a skill that can be built. In the end, you see, I think we too easily define talent as "That thing we don't have an abundance of and wish we did." And that's the problem. There is nothing wrong with not wanting to be a writer bad enough to pay the price we'll have to pay. I'm not a professional basketball player because I wasn't willing to put the energy into it that it required for me to be a professional. I can live with that. But let's not kid ourselves. If we're not willing to pay the price to write "competitively," then we should find another profession that we're willing to pay the price for. If we need a bigger worldview, we build one. If we need a better vocabulary, we work on that. If we need to understand story--we drive ourselves to get that understanding. If we're not having fun, then we need to figure out what kind of story we need to be focusing on to allow ourselves to have fun. If we can't figure out what we need to do to get better, this is NOT a problem with our talent level, it's a problem with our understanding of what it takes to be a professional in the field. Like I said before, this doesn't mean you have to write 12 hours a day and produce War and Peace over the weekend. But it does mean that you take an honest assessment of your skills. It means you give yourself credit for what you do well. And it means you take a direct approach to acquiring the skills you lack. In the end, there will be a core that is talent. That true thing we think of as talent--whatever it is. There is a reason why Michael Jordan was Michael Jordan and Larry Bird was Larry Bird, after all. I will not deny that. Whatever talent we possess will let us fly to the upper layers of the stratosphere within our pool of competitors. Or it will keep us mired in the middle someplace. Of course it will. And we'll always wish we had more of it. But a lack of talent will not keep us from having a career. A lack of talent will not keep us from being successful--the harsh reality of the publishing business is enough by itself to handle this issue all on its own. A lack of talent will only keep us from being Michael Jordan instead of Bill Wennington. A lack of desire and work ethic (whatever it is for each of us) is what will keep us from being Bill Wennington. And, as I said earlier. Bill Wennington wears three NBA championship rings.  Geeze, Ron. You're weird Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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