Can anybody be a writer? Is it a talent you are born with or one that’s learned?
These are age-old questions that can apply to just about any artistic field. And the answer to both is … yes and no.
The truth is, some folks are born with writing talent — it’s in their charts, as they say in astrology. I was born with writing talent, but it was nurtured along the way. I’ve also met folks who had never considered being a writer, and then burst forth with a more productive amount of work than those born with the so-called talent.
Writing as an innate talent is writing in its rawest form. But if that writing isn’t shaped, refined and grown along the way, it remains just that: raw but not necessarily good. Writing as a learned occupation, on the other hand, is sometimes a little more difficult to achieve. It takes dedication (as does those with a born talent), a fine ear to the sound of words, and a willingness to devote the time and sometimes the frustration needed to get the word down on the page.
For example, when I got to college I thought I was a pretty damn hot writer. Hadn’t I been told that in elementary school, and then again in junior high and in high school? Didn’t I have a creative writing teacher, Glenn Heyward, who asked me in my senior year if I had ever considered being a writer? And didn’t this question set me down the path of realization that I was a writer in my very soul?
Then along came Penelope Carroll, my first semester English Composition I teacher at Columbia College in Columbia, Missouri. She didn’t think I was so hot and proved it by marking up every piece I wrote with her little red pen. I hated Penelope and that smug look she’d get when she handed me back my composition book with a big fat red F on it. I hated her red penned remarks on every page. I swore that I’d show her who had talent. But, while Glenn Heyward is the teacher who inspired my writing talents, Penelope Carroll whipped them into shape. Today, I credit her with making me get serious about my writing and realizing that I had so very much to learn about writing.
What if didn’t have a natural born talent? Could I still be a good writer? I liken it to playing the guitar: I didn’t have natural talent — at least not on the level of some musicians I know — but I had an ear. What I didn’t have was dedication. I learned the basics but I never progressed. I could have been a pretty decent guitar player, I believe, but I wasn’t willing or able to put in the time. Writing works the same way: talent makes it easier, but the business of writing is not easy. It takes an understanding of how grammatical rules apply, but it also takes the ability to hear words as music and how those words play against each other.
It also takes a deep belief that it is what you are meant to do. I had a guidance counselor in college who advised me to double major in English and Business. I wasn’t interested in a Business degree, although I’m sure it could have helped me with the business side of being a writer. But writing (and art) was all I ever cared about, and I immersed myself in every writing class I could take.
Today, 28 years later, I am still learning. That’s the thing about artistic talent … there’s always something new to learn. And the most important thing I’ve learned along the way — more than honing my talent — is that ideas are more important than skill. While it’s true that most editors won’t look twice at a manuscript, article or other writing that’s filled with grammatical mistakes, they will take a chance on an idea that’s salable, even if the writing is just so-so.
Case in point: J.K. Rowling. Many literature scholars and other academia agree that she’s not the most literary tool in the shed. But she had an idea that lit the fire of people’s imaginations. And that idea has brought her fame and fortune.
