Is "Talent" A Dirty Word?

Shortly after I read the report card of my 14 year old daughter, I was breathing fire.

Her art teacher commented for a paragraph about how my daughter was an interested student who took enthusiastic participation in her classes. Then she wrote, "Camille has some talent at art"...

...and that's the exact moment when flames spontaneously shot out of my esophagus.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I demanded the ambient air. "Some talent? Is that the level between "ripe with talent" and "no talent"?

I've never met this art teacher but I was appalled. Who appointed her the judge of "talent" for a group of Grade 8s? God? Herself? The ghost of Leondardo da Vinci?

I'm perfectly fine with an art teacher commenting on my child's output, her paying attention (or not) in class, her creative evolution, etc. etc. but I take exception with a teacher commenting on a student's "talent", or perceived lack thereof.

Once I had calmed down (roughly two days and three tablets of chocolate later) I asked myself, is talent truly such a dirty word?

Yes, I concluded. It is.

One thing that annoys the hell out of me about "talent" is that it is such a passive notion. There is a perception that if you have talent, you don't need to work hard, and that if you don't have talent, there is no point in working anyway.

Few people lack the requisite modesty (Kanye West being a vastly entertaining exception to his rule) to declare themselves talented. That means the huge majority of people are waiting around for someone else - an agent, a gallery owner, a reviewer, or a theatre critic art - to decree how much talent they possess.

From what I have seen, one thing all successful creatives have in common is fricking hard work. Their success comes from an epic amount of time and energy invested in front of a canvas, or their French Horn, or a Word document, or a loom, or on a stage, or wherever their chosen creative outlet may be. They do not waste time contemplating their god-given degree of talent, or listening to others' judgements on the issue. They are too busy developing their craft.

From the writing workshops I have attended and led, I have noticed that the word "talent" is probably the biggest single roadblock to aspiring writers living the creative lives their souls yearn for.

I'm always amazed that one little word has the power to prevent so many dreams from coming to fruition.

The notion of having their talent judged breeds visceral fear - fear that if they expose themselves by creating and sharing work it will lead them to be judged "untalented". Many aspiring writers would equate this with the end of their creative road. What is the point of working, after all, when untalented?

My last beef with talent is that it is such a static notion. It doesn't have any space to accommodate the true nature of art. Creatives get better from working hard. They improve. They innovate. Their art evolves. Their craft interacts in a dynamic way with their self and life which, as we all need to accept, is ever-changing. Creativity at its very core is unpredictable movement.

A small, cramped word like talent has no role to play in the magical lighting storm that is creativity.

In my mind, talent is an ill-adapted, damaging notion. Anyone who uses it in relation to my children may find me stalking them with a bar of soap to wash their mouths out.

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The Isle of Loathing

Right now I don't just mildly dislike my current WIP, I loathe it with every fibre of my being. I'm about two-thirds through the second (big) round of edits on My Grape Wedding. Every word I have written sounds trite. The dialogue is lifeless. The scenes are pointless. The description (even my beloved food porn) is repetitive. Why did I ever think I could write a book?

My inner critic tells me a million times a day that I should save myself and my readers the agony and just bin the entire project. I have so many other things I want to write besides this tired old WIP. I hear their siren's song...More brilliant things. Easier things. Effortless things.

My writing ship has run aground the Isle of Loathing.

I've been here before. In fact, in the past three and a half years I've been here THREE TIMES before. When I begin a new writing project I always think I can avoid this place, but in fact I had to do my penance here with every book I wrote and published.

I can almost set my watch by it now. I always end up here between half and two thirds of my way through the second edit.

For a decade before I published my first book I never explored what was on or beyond the Isle of Loathing. In those ten years I began eight manuscripts and shortly after being shipwrecked on this ghastly place, I would always alight to a new, shiny story idea, only to be surprised and dismayed when I hit I inevitably hit the Isle of Loathing once again. As a result, despite a regular writing practice I didn't finish or publish anything for ten long years.

Then, I decided to become a finisher.

Being a finisher, as it turns out, means getting out and exploring the Island and figuring out how to get off.

Surviving and escaping the Isle of Loathing isn't complicated. It is comprised of two steps:

1. Embracing the Suck
2. Finishing your current project

Embracing the Suck means that you accept the Isle of Loathing as part of your writing journey, and almost learn to relish its fetid air and polluted beaches. This is the point in your writing when you get up close and personal with one of a writer's most valuable assets - grit. You will have to dig deep, but you will also begin to take a perverse pleasure in knowing that you can dig deep. The Isle of Loathing is going to suck, but it is not going to stop you from writing. No sir.

Finishing your current project is also pretty simple. It means you continue writing, but do not jump ship to another project until you have completely finished (for me this means hitting that "publish" button) your current WIP.

If you just keep doing this every day you will find eventually a kind tide will wash in and free your boat. You will escape (at least until your next WIP). Then, you'll begin to find some bits in your MS that make you laugh out loud. You'll discover that you actually handled a scene quite effectively. Readers will thank you for writing your book.

All of that will make your temporary purgatory on the Isle of Loathing worth it. Feel the loathing, but finish anyway.