Killing the Sacred Cows of Publishing: Talent is a Myth

The word “talent” has been used for a very long time to destroy writers. I have always believed that the word is the worst myth of them all in publishing, so here goes a chapter I’m sure will be annoying to some people, and should cause some interesting discussions if nothing else.

Okay, first to my trusty and well-worn Oxford American Dictionary for a standard definition.

Talent: Special or very great ability, people who have this.

That’s about it. Pretty straightforward. Notice the word “ability” and notice it says nothing about being “born with.” Just notice.

Okay, when it comes to writing, let me put my definition right out front here.

Talent in Writing: A measure of a person’s craft at storytelling at any given moment that depends on who is judging and the age of the person being judged.

As I have said before in a number of places, when I started writing, I was so untalented, it scared anyone who even tried to read something I wrote. In school I hated writing because I was so bad at it. If I had listened to all the people who told me I had no talent for writing, I would have quit three decades ago. No, make that five decades ago, because all my early report cards said I had no talent for writing.

Now, after millions and millions of words practiced, many books and stories published, I get comments all the time like, “You are a talented writer, of course you can do it.”

Or one I got the other day. “You have the talent to write fast.”

Well, when I started to get serious about fiction writing, it took me hours and hours to do one page. Then that page would be so poorly written and riddled with mistakes that it got tossed away more often than not. Yup, I was a “naturally talented” fast writer. NOT!

Thank heavens for me I came to the realization early on in my life that talent was only a measure of craft at a certain point in time and nothing more.

Yet, frighteningly, parents, teachers, and so many family and friends think that talent is FIXED. If you are talented when you are young in something, you should be for your entire life. Well, sadly, as many have discovered, it doesn’t work that way.

Yet parents and teachers early on are determined to saddle kids with the “talented” label or worse yet, push them away from things they don’t do very well at first because they have no “talent” for that. Just makes me angry every time I hear of it.

If you call a student talented, it’s an excuse for them to not work as hard. “It’s easy for them.” If you say they don’t have talent, you allow them to not try at all, or think something is impossible to do and then quit. In my opinion, talent is a deadly word to attach or even mention in front of any child.

Now, let’s look at writing. James Lee Burke, Stephen King, Nora Roberts and others at the top of the lists are the most talented writers we have working. Many readers don’t have a taste for a certain writer’s work, but doesn’t matter. The bestsellers are talented storytellers who sell millions of copies every time they put out a new book. The evidence is in the sales.

I’ll take myself at this moment as an example. Compared to a beginning writer, I have a vast talent for writing. Compared to King or Nora, not so much.

My talent AT THE MOMENT is a measure of my ability and craft. Right now. And it depends on who I am being compared to. I am not permanently FIXED at this talent level. I can keep learning, practicing, working hard, and get better. Become more “talented.”

And, of course, that measurement of my talent is also completely subjective to who is doing the looking. One new writer might think I’m talented, some other writer might wonder why I even get published at all, let alone make my living at it.

So how did I become so “talented?” And how do I hope to become as talented as King and Nora someday?

Again, practice and focused study. And then more practice, with the constant drive to learn and become a better writer with every story I write. As I improve my craft, sell more books, I will become more talented.

FACTORS OF BEING TALENTED

A proclamation of TALENT on a person depends on a number of factors.

1…Age of the person being judged.

Tiger Woods. As a kid, his father had him hitting golf balls. And his father was training him how to think like a golfer as a kid.

So he goes onto the Mike Douglas Show as a very young kid and manages to hit a golf ball into the air about fifty feet. WOW, he was talented. (For a kid his age.)

But compared to me at that time, if you just look at simple golf skills, no age factor at all, he was awful. At that moment in time when Tiger Woods was that kid on the Mike Douglas Show, I was a full-time professional golfer playing qualifying stops for the tour. I could fly a ball 300 yards and seldom was over par on any course. Compared to me in strict golf standards, Tiger Woods at that time had no talent at all. I could hit a ball backhanded, standing on one leg, blindfolded farther than he could hit one at that same moment in time.

Age of the person observed was the major factor in calling Tiger talented at that time.

So what made Tiger Woods into the most “talented” golfer on the planet from that kid who could barely hit a ball fifty paces? Practice and focused study and years and years of practice. He learned how to hit a ball farther than I could in my prime, he learned how to win, how to control his mind and his ability. He hit millions and millions of golf balls and played millions of holes of golf over a lot of years.

In other words, his craft improved as he got older.

As a kid, people called him talented, as an adult, they still call him talented. He managed to continue to increase his talent, his craft, his ability. He never once let the “talented” label go to his head. He was lucky and well-trained.

2…What scale are you comparing the talented person to?

For example, I hope to run a marathon next fall near my 6oth birthday. If I trudge along two weeks before my birthday, my age class will be 50-59 and I will suck compared to others. I will not be considered talented at all. But if I pick a marathon two weeks after my 60th birthday, my age class is 60-65 or 60-70, and you know, in that age class, my pounding and huffing along might be considered pretty darn good, even talented though I will have the same time either way.

A kid in high school English class might be able to write a paper better than his classmates because he’s spent time at home writing in a journal for five years. He has better craft because he has practiced and the others around him haven’t. So he gets called talented compared to the other people in his class. But now someone like me comes in, sits in that class, with my years of experience writing and I write a paper. I would be called the talented student now and the previous talented student would just fade into the pack.

Talent is relative to who you are comparing the person to.

So why do I consider the talented label as one of the worst myths in all of publishing, and the most destructive? Because I’ve seen it kill writer’s dreams so many times over the years.

Both sides of the coin are destructive. Talented or Untalented. Both judgments kill writers’ careers if the writer lets the judgment go in deep.

In my Clarion six week workshop, I was the least talented of the twenty-three writers who were there. No one was even close to how awful I was. And I got toasted every critique and rightfully so.

All the negative feedback just made me slightly angry because I knew they were right, and it made me want to work even harder. (Remember, I had been very, very good at two national sports before Clarion. And I had been accepted and made it through years of law school when no one thought I could do it. I knew that practice and hard work were the key. And when you want to play at a national level, you have to work harder and longer than everyone else in the country. I knew that. I was willing to do that.)

So what happened to the most talented person at my Clarion? When I was the publisher at Pulphouse ten years later, I bought his only short story sale, a story he had written at Clarion. He got so much acclaim in that workshop and from friends, he clearly thought writing was too easy and went on to other things that challenged him.

I’ve had “talented” friends get angry at me and become bitter. They think because they are talented they don’t have to work. Yet there I am, working my butt off and making sales and getting better, but because they think talent is a “fixed” thing, and since I had no talent, but am now selling, the system has to be broken in some way.

Or worse yet, I would get the comments, “He was lucky.”

As Kevin J. Anderson once said, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”

Yup. And the harder I work, the more I practice, the more I want to learn, the more talented I become.

Comments like “He was lucky” often come from nothing more than thinking that talent is a fixed measure of a person. My old friends who saw some of those early stories would never think of me as talented. I’m fixed in their minds as hopeless and it’s head-shaking to them how I have gotten so lucky.

Tiger Woods for the first ten years on the tour was known for being the first one on the practice range in the morning and the last one to leave at night. He worked with golf coaches, pumped weights, and did everything he could to improve his game. Wonder why he is the most talented golfer on the planet? He worked harder than anyone else.

Why am I here? Because I worked harder than most people. In fact, I got angry once at a workshop of students who just shrugged off my success as nothing more than luck and me being me. I challenged them all that I could write more books in one year than all of them combined. That’s right, combined. Six young professional writers against me. And I beat them. I did more work, wrote more books, in one year than all of them combined. None of them ever questioned again why I was more successful.

So it might also be safe to say that talent is a measure of how hard a person works at their craft. The harder a writer works, the more talented a writer they become.

As I do with every chapter, I want to talk about solutions, but in this case, there aren’t many I’m afraid. At least not easy ones.

You have been labeled “talented.” And you believe it. Now what?

That’s the worst thing that can happen to you, actually, in writing, if that little voice in your head that drives you actually took that word in and believed it.

The symptoms will be some or all of the following if that has happened.

—Your work ethic has slowed down.

—You will be getting angry at rejections.

—You will believe that no one understands your work.

—Your ego will be so huge, you might think there is no point in going traditional publishing routes because that takes time and is rigged.

—You will start looking for shortcuts to becoming rich as someone with your “talent” should be.

You might even sell a couple of things, but alas, ten years from now we will be looking back asking that awful question: “What ever happened to…?”

How to fix this problem? Not a clue, actually, because I can’t help you with the ego. Chances are that if you have been given this label and believe it, deeply believe it, you are doomed. Tiger Woods got past this by his father pounding home day after day for decades a work ethic like no other. His father led him to believe he was the best, but to stay the best, he had to work harder and harder and harder.

And that is the truth. Once you stop working, stop trying to get better, you stop, fix your talent right there, and then stand and watch the rest of the world go past.

For example, if you think you are a talented writer, chances are my post about writing faster made you angry. You don’t need to work as hard or write as fast because you’re talented.

And my posts about agents and Laura Resnick’s wonderful comments following those posts made you angry because you’re talented and you don’t need to learn all that stuff. Someone will take care of you. That’s your right because you are “talented.”

If your little voice really thinks you are talented, if you think every story you write should be bought first time out, and are angry it isn’t, if you think that famous is only for the lucky and bestsellers are bad writers, you are doomed. You have to kill that voice somehow, some way, as quickly as you can.

The belief that you are talented locks you in and closes doors.

But killing that voice, letting go of that belief that you are talented and dropping back to the belief that you must work harder and harder to attain what you want is difficult at best. Why? Because of fear.

Inside, deep inside, you understand the truth, but fear uses the talented label as a shield.

Remember that talent is a measure of your craft at the moment which depends on who you are being compared to and your age. Best thing I can suggest is figure out where that “talented” label went in. And then kill that moment.

For example, your workshop kept telling you that you are talented, but no one in there was published, and yet you believed them and it went in. Oh, oh… Get away from that workshop, join a workshop (and keep your mouth shut) that has professional selling writers in it. If your “talented belief system” can survive being torn down and you can go back to wanting to learn and get better, you might have a hope.

Find the source and clean it out of your mind as quickly as you can. If you can. Get professional help if you need it, which with this problem, you more than likely will.

Besides all the things I mentioned already, how do you really know if you have this problem? You think that all you need to do is sit down and write that great idea you have and polish it until it’s perfect and your talent will be shown to the world. Problem is, you just can’t seem to find the time to write it. (Which is your deep mind saying, “Don’t try, you might fail. Better to believe you are talented than try to write and prove you are not.)

Truth: Thinking you are talented is an excuse to not work, to not write, to not drive forward. Thinking you are talented is a reason to be lazy.

So what happens when you really believe you have no talent, when that has gone in deep?

Almost as bad as the flip side, actually. Having a label of being bad at something gives us all an excuse to not do it, even though we want to. Back to the fear issues.

You think “If I am so bad at this and it’s impossible for me to learn because I have no ‘talent’ for it, why should I even bother?” Fear wins and you stop and never really try.

On this side of things, I had already lost my belief in the talent myth. So when I started into writing, all the pounding I took because of my poor craft just motivated me to learn and get better. I was told over and over, by everyone from my family to teachers that I had no talent for writing. “It just wasn’t me.”

I was talented at skiing, or golf, or math, or architecture. (Never was talented at the law.) Why didn’t I just stay with those?

But interestingly enough, I had the strength to stand up and say (in my own mind) “Only I know what’s right for me.”

In writing, only sales are the judge of quality writing, no matter what anyone says or how loudly someone proclaims themselves to be the judge. Readers purchasing your books and enjoying the read are all that matter.

And the only way to get more sales and to find more readers is to practice and learn and keep working harder than everyone around you.

So if you have been given the “untalented” label, (and you believe it) you have to somehow climb over the fear, tell everyone to go take a flying leap, and just keep pushing forward. Most won’t. Writing is hard enough just learning for the lucky ones that weren’t saddled with either side of this myth early on.

I have never believed I have talent. I have never believed I am untalented.

I have believed in my own ability to work hard, practice, and learn something I set my mind to learning.

And so far, that’s got me past a lot of proclamations by observers telling me that I have no talent or that I am talented. And these days, I hate to admit, those hit me in about equal measure all the time. And that just makes me laugh.

The real bottom line is that to get past this myth, you have to believe in yourself and ignore everyone else’s belief system about you. Learn from others, but ignore what they say about your “talent.” Because the moment you take that alien belief system into your own mind and believe it, either good or bad, you are doomed.

Talent in Writing: A measure of a person’s craft at storytelling at any given moment that depends on who is judging and the age of the person being judged.

In other words, TALENT CAN BE LEARNED.

It’s up to you to work hard, practice hard, learn everything you can learn, so that you also become a “talented” (meaning skilled) writer.

The myth of talent kills more writers careers than any myth in the business. Don’t let yourself fall to this one.

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Copyright 2010 Dean Wesley Smith
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This is now part of my inventory in my bakery. (Confused on that, read the Killing the Sacred Cows of Publishing post about making money with writing.) I’m giving you this small slice as a sample. I’m giving you a taste, but not selling any of the pie.

If you feel this helped you in any way, toss a tip into the tip jar on the way out of the Magic Bakery.

And I would like to thank all the fine folks who have donated. Once this book is done, I will send you a copy. The donations and the comments both after the posts and privately are really keeping me going on this. Thanks!

If you can’t afford to donate, please feel free to pass this chapter along to others who might get some help from it. Every week or so I will be adding a new chapter on the myths and sacred cows of publishing. Stay tuned. Upcoming are chapters on bestsellers, losing control of your writing, having it made, speed equals making money, more on agents, and so much more. This business has a lot of myths. An entire book full.

Thanks, Dean


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135 Responses to Killing the Sacred Cows of Publishing: Talent is a Myth

  1. nathan says:

    19 rejections before becoming an overnight sensation.

    Even with multi-subs that’s years of rejections. As Dean points out most writers (the ones who even actually finish a book) would have given up on that manuscript. As Dean points out, again, all agents would have bailed on that project.

    Then to keep deliverying manuscript after manuscript that didn’t kill the series? A bad 4th book would have killed #’s 5,6, & 7 no matter how big books 1,2, & 3 were.

    To quote Inigo Montoya, substituting the word “luck” for the word “inconceivable” in The Princess Bride:

    “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

  2. Faysie says:

    Dean – Thank you for the response, that is a great narrative. And I love the idea of learning something new every week, because nobody can take knowledge away. Even if my passions change, I’ll still have everything I learned, and that will always be of value. Awesome, great idea.

    Jeff – Many thanks to you as well, that is very well-said. I think this means I’m just screwed, because my whole life I’ve tried to quit both singing and writing, bouncing back and forth between the two, and it seems I can’t stop either… we shall see :-)

    And I think it’s interesting that the “luck” myth and the “talent” myth keep intersecting.

    I’ve actually heard a myth in both the singing and writing/editing circles concerning “luck.” This myth involves wealth. It goes something like, “if you weren’t born with wealthy parents who can support you while you work unpaid internships/take voice lessons/spend time writing, then you’ll never ever get ahead of the crowd.”

    I hear this myth all the time, but it seems pretty insulting to the human spirit. If Dean could support his early writing career by waiting tables, and if Stephen King could support his by working at a laundry (geez I loved his autobiography…) then it seems anyone can do this. I mean, anyone who finds the hard work and sacrifices worth it, of course.

  3. Steve Perry says:

    Pasteur’s Dictum:

    “Dans les champs de l’observation le hasard ne favorise que les esprits préparés.”

    Usually, this gets mistranslated, leaving out the observation part, as “Chance favors the prepared mind.”

    I think that’s the essence of Dean’s observation about luck.

    If I want to split hairs, I’d say that chance — luck — has nothing to do with the prepared mind per se. However, a prepared mind — attitude, spirt, whatever — can more readily take advantages of opportunities luck offers, no question.

    Luck does play a part, of course, but since you can’t control that, you don’t depend on it. If you get the break, that’s great. If you don’t, crying into your beer won’t help. It is an ill wind that blows no good.

    I use Thelma and Louise as an example of luck versus choice. Yes, there was an unlucky happenstance in the bar that set the plot going at speed, but from that point on, every time the women made a choice, they made the wrong one and they wound up flying off that cliff. No other ending was possible, given their decisions. And the movie would have had no impact had they chose differently anywhere along the way. They could have ended the results of bad luck in the first act.

    Or, to update the philosophy a tad: Shit happens. Get over it.

  4. Coming to this discussion late, so not much to add (great post and comments by the way), but I do want to say this:

    You can’t measure a writer’s future success by the manuscript sitting in front of you.

    You can certainly argue that people are born with aptitudes — meaning, the ability to learn certain skills faster than others — but this is also true: The rate at which people learn can also change.

    Writers who seem to have little “talent” can suddenly take giant leaps forward. It happens all the time. This is why I get so angry when I hear people passing judgment on other writers based on the manuscript in front of them, especially if it’s a big name writer who should know better. “Oh,” they’ll say, “you’re better off pursuing a different career, something you have more aptitude for.”

    I’ll say it again: You can’t measure a writer’s future success by the manuscript sitting in front of you.

    In fact, I don’t think there’s any worthwhile way to measure someone’s potential for success at all. You may be able to measure their current aptitude (see above definition), but that’s not the same thing. There is only the doing of it. I don’t even think the writer themselves can judge. You won’t know until you’ve given it your all. And there is risk in that, of course. The risk is our time. We all have a finite amount of it. The time you spend working on your writing could be spent on some other passion — music, art, sports, etc.

    This is why — and I think this goes at the heart of what Dean was talking about — it’s much better to choose a path that you are passionate about, one that stirs you even if it’s not rational, rather than the one in which you show the most initial “talent.” Since it requires great discipline to achieve anything worthwhile in life, you will need every ounce of that passion to keep you going. And the success you achieve along the way — whatever it is — will mean far more to you.

    • dwsmith says:

      Scott says: “You can’t measure a writer’s future success by the manuscript sitting in front of you.”

      Exactly and well said. Thanks, Scott. Hope you don’t mind that I use that at times and credit you. Right on the money.

  5. L. M. May says:

    Since Mozart keeps being brought up, I’d like to point out that while he started learning the elements of composing at around 5, if he had died at 20 he’d be considered one of the “lesser” composers. Most people would be like “Mozart who?”

    The first piece he wrote that is still widely played today– solo cantata Exsultate, jubilate, K. 165– was written after around eleven years of studying music.

    His “breakthrough” work (as far as critics are concerned)– E-flat piano concerto K. 271–occurred after more than fifteen years of studying music (around the time he turned twenty-one).

    So even Mozart doesn’t break the 10,000-hours of practice rule for excellence in a field (Gladwell did a good job summarizing the research behind that rule in OUTLIERS, Chapter 2). On average, it takes about 9 to 12 years to rack up those 10,000 hours.

    Mozart was a musical prodigy, but also hard-working and kept pushing himself onwards and upwards as an artist. The film AMADEUS is grossly unrealistic in how it portrays him.

  6. L. M. May says:

    As the parent of a kid with autism, too often I see:

    Low Expectations by others = Self-Fulfilling Prophecy of Failure
    High Expectations by others = Sense of Entitlement

    The hard part is dumping the expectations entirely, and just rolling up the sleeves to get to work. Practice, study, practice.

    My kid appeared at the age of two to have no “talent” for talking and listening. He seemed mute. If my spouse and I had accepted the (very low) expectations of our local school district, he’d probably still be mute.

    But we didn’t. Instead we went out and found world-class autism researchers and teachers we could learn from for help. Turned out we had to find ways to help our kid practice 24-7-365.

    And he learned how to talk, despite being perceived as having no “talent” for it. After seven years of sweat equity, our kid’s problem is that he likes to talk non-stop. :)

    As far as I’m concerned, expectations based on talent are often worthless, because mostly they’re based on speculation, not actual experimental data with double-blind controls and good research design.

    One of the ways were able to figure out which autism researchers knew what they were doing was they knew what a “double-blind trial” was and were worried about observer bias.

    So like Dean said, go study and practice.

    You won’t know where you’ll end up unless you do so.

  7. I’m in Sam. Put me down in the hard work column.

    Just to throw more fuel to the fire. We’re teaching our kids to play piano using the Suzuki method. It’s often been called the “genius” method because so many of its students become great players. They literally can take any child and make them a prodigy.

    I’ll give you a hint on why it works so well. The first is that to do it right, you have to play ALOT. The second is that the method has perfected many ways of focused practicing, so its getting the most out of those hours.

    My son is seven and after three years of study can play quite well. When other parents say “Oh how talented.” I quickly point out the number of hours he practices on a regular basis and ask them politely not devalue all the hard work he puts in by calling it “talent.”

    I don’t see any other profession or hobby any differently. If you want to be successful, don’t give up and work hard.

  8. Larry Hodges says:

    Dean asked, “Larry, my question to you if you believe talent is something besides a measure of craft skills in writing associated with the age of the person being measured, then what is it? Your question assumes that talent and craft skill can somehow be pulled apart. If so, how is “talent” measured in that case?”

    First, let me emphasize once again that I’m not a believer in talent being the reason for one’s success. The whole idea of being in the “talent” or “hard work” camp strikes me as silly as it’s some of both, with hard work the far more important one in regards to success – so perhaps it’s not so silly being in the “hard work” camp simply because that’s what you can control and is the more important factor.

    But to answer your question, talent in writing is what allows one, especially at the start, to more easily learn the craft skills needed to be a successful writer. Very roughly speaking, it means starting out with the verbal (and probably other) areas of the brain more developed. But the brain undergoes a lot of growth as we grow up, and continues to learn throughout life, and so where you start is far less important than what you do afterwards, if you put in the hard work.

    • dwsmith says:

      Okay, Larry, I’ll buy we’re all different. (grin) I tend to say that a lot through these chapters. And I have no issue that we all start with different wiring and more importantly in my opinion, different environment. (Please, no argument about environment vs. genetics…take that to a science site. (grin))

      But I would love to see how someone would propose to measure writing “talent” in a newborn. I suppose in a future science fiction world, that’s a possibility. Might be closer than I imagine now. And I read a lot of science journals. (I am stunned every week at how close some things are, actually.)

      So I’m not arguing with you at all. Hard work and focused practice and determination through all set-backs is what makes a professional writer.

      By the way everyone, just because you have a life setback with your writing, or made a mistake, and are on the ground moaning and not writing for six months or a year, doesn’t mean that all the knowledge and practice you did before you got knocked down was wasted. Just stand up and start again. As my wife Kris often says, “It’s not how many times you get knocked down that matters, it’s how many times you get back up.”

  9. “a book that might only have one reader at one point in time five years later may have millions. ”

    Since Brad mentioned Dan Brown, I’ll note that Brown’s earlier book, Angels and Demons, sold a heck of a lot more copies after The DaVinci Code came out than before it. (Can’t find numbers, other than that the first printing (hardcover) of Angels was fewer than 10,000 copies.)

    Interesting that it was Brown’s 4th book (DaVinci) just as it was Rowling’s 4th Harry Potter that pushed each author into the stratosphere. Even aside from the multiple rejections before that first sale (don’t know how Brown did there, either), “overnight success” takes years.

  10. Jeff Baerveldt says:

    If I had to try to answer the question that Dean and Larry are debating, I would say this:

    Innate talent in writing is nothing more than a desire to write that doesn’t go away.

    If there’s any “gift,” it’s that.

    Not everyone has the desire to write. Not everyone has the desire to be a scientist. Not everyone has a desire to be an artist, singer, dancer, an lawyer, a teacher, etc.

    Yes, we might have the desire to pursue something for a while. I was pretty passionate about the guitar in high school. Even moved to LA when I was 18 to become a professional musician. Then I MET some professional musicians. I moved back to Texas within a year and haven’t really played the guitar since. That was 18 years ago.

    But with writing — that has ALWAYS been with me. I remember writing a report on hurricanes when I was 9. It was during the summer. I just wanted to do it.

    I remember loving all the writing assignments in school. Well, I may not have loved the assignment per se, but I loved the WRITING.

    Looking back over my life, WRITING is the only constant, the only thing that’s been with me since I was a kid.

    I didn’t ask for it. The desire was just there, and it was one of my earliest desires.

    Could we call that desire “talent”?

    I dunno.

    But this won’t-go-away desire IS what separates writers from nonwriters.

    Maybe those who don’t have any “talent” for writing really just don’t have a deep desire. They decide they’d like to write, then it gets hard, maybe they get a few rejections, then they quit for good. I always thought I was like that, but I kept coming back to it, and eventually I accepted that since I couldn’t quit, I was a writer. Just like RA Salvatore said.

    I wouldn’t necessarily call this desire “talent,” but it is something

    Again, I’m just speculating here.

    • dwsmith says:

      Jeff, seems as logical as anything else about that mythical born-with “thing” that some people believes give some people a head start.

      But my post about the belief in “talent” as declared by others around us is where I think the real danger is. Believing we are talented and thus not needing to work as hard and believing we aren’t talented and giving up is where the true evilness of this myth lies when it comes to writing.

      So I agree with everyone about the hard work. You want people to declare you “talented” and “lucky” and explain your success that way, then work harder than anyone around you at focused practice and that will happen. And trust me, when it does, you will just smile. And then go back to work.

  11. Rachel Hobbs says:

    Dean,
    Thank you for writing this article. It has really encouraged me to keep after my dream but to also be realistic about the hard work and practice needed to be succesful. It was just what I need to hear.
    But I’m really curious about something, you said you didn’t even like writing early on. So, what was it that made you interested in writing in the first place?

    • dwsmith says:

      Rachel, hated writing early on, avoided it at all costs, partially because I was embarrassed I was so bad at it, partially because it was just so painful.

      When I went back to school at 25, I knew I would need to get a little better to make it and started to pay attention. But mostly I think it was my love of reading and the realization that real people wrote books that brought me to it. My ego doesn’t work like most. It works in the opposite direction. I pretty much said “If real people write all those books, than I can do it as well.”

      Then I sat about trying to figure out what I needed to learn and how to learn it. But when it boils right down, it was my love of reading that did it I’m sure.

  12. joemontana says:

    I once heard someone say “Enough research will eventually support any argument’.

    My new version is “Enough busting your butt and your ‘talent’ will shine!”

    I have to agree that Talent is primarily a product of putting your nose to the grind stone. I do think somethings come more easily to others, but generally speaking something ike writing a book requires so many disciplines that ‘talent’ is unlikely to cover every skill you need.

    As far as luck, I think it plays a role, but I agree with Dean that it tends to even out. You may get Lucky and send an editor a book he wants the day before someone else and beat that guy to the punch. That might be luck, but next time around maybe you are #2 and the slot is filled. Luck for the other guy….

  13. Sam Lee says:

    Larry, to be honest, I admit it’s a bit of a false dichotomy to set up talent-success vs hard work-success. I think that you will find that many of the folks labeled “talented” will have some variation of hard work behind their success. Any seemingly natural aptitude for something can only take you so far. It’s applying it and developing it that counts.

    I suppose, though, that the argument of the people for talent in this thread is probably along the lines of “luck can compensate for lack of talent” and “talent cannot compensate for lack of luck”.

    What probably throws people with the talent concept is failure to recognize that talent is composed of a person’s natural starting or base ability and then the augmentation to that by study and practice (aka “work”)–and that any measure of talent is a snapshot of where that person is at the time with those two factors. I still sustain that there is no such thing as being “talented” without some work involved; prodigies are impressive, but only compared to their age group.

    Violinist Sarah Chang at age 10 against other 10-year olds is almost unfair, but Sarah Chang at 10 was nowhere near star violinists in their prime, or even of Sarah at 20.

    Mozart’s early stuff is charming but nothing mind-blowing. In Twyla Tharp’s book, she says that Mozart had deformed hands by age 28 because of all the time he spent practicing/performing/composing (with a quill). It boggles the mind to realise that his greatest works were composed in such a short time (he died at 35) on the face of it, but it shouldn’t surprise you when you read that he is supposed to have written to a friend that “People err who think my art comes easily to me. I assure you, dear friend, nobody has devoted so much time and thought to composition as I. There is not a famous master whose music I have not industriously studied through many times.”

    Sounds like practice and study and tons of hard work to me.

    [A counter-example to the popular depiction of Mozart and on the opposite end of the age spectrum would be WB Yeats. Nothing special until about the age of fifty (IIRC) and then, transcendence. He did not cover himself in glory as a star pupil or with his early works, and yet, his later works stand as some of the greatest poems in the English language. He studied and wrote a LOT--a lot of work, in short.]

    I only found out about the talent myth in other popular genius figures sometime in the last year, and so Dean’s post about the myth in writing really hit home and “clicked” all the cherries in the slots for me!

  14. Amanda McCarter says:

    Talent and luck are concepts. They are words given meaning by society to imply certain attributes to things, people, whatever. Just like cuss words. We only find them offensive because that’s the implication society has given them. No one is innately lucky or talented. “Luck” or “talent” could be ascribed to anyone with skill, drive, and opportunity.

    The fact that Terry Brooks sent out his Shanara series when he did and picked up a publishing deal has nothing to do with luck. Within any moment there are an infinite number of statistical possibilities. For something to be possible, you have to take action toward it. Mail out your novel. As Dean said, Rowling, and Brooks aren’t lucky or talented. They possess a good amount of skill and drive and the common sense to recognize a good opportunity. I refuse to believe that some mystical outside force has anything to do with what happens to me in my life.

  15. Louis says:

    It took me more than one sitting to get this all down, especially since I have a story to finish and two others to check on-I wrote them fast at work so I’m sure they have a lot of what some call nitpicks. And because it’s so long I am splitting this up.

    Wow, this chapter and discussion are powerful. Personally, I think the discussion is more than worth the price of admission, it might be more helpful than the chapter, not that the chapter was bad.

    I’m not sure what to say or what not to say. :)

    I must say that I sometimes fluctuate between what Dean says and what James A. Ritchi said. It all depends on how I feel at the moment. Dean seems to make more sense but at times it doesn’t feel like it. I think James has a point about smart work. If I understand what he meant correctly, when we work do we work on our weaknesses or just work? I can see how that would make a difference. It’s like lifting weights, which I do some. Do you just lift any old thing that comes along or do you work on specific groups of muscles? And when you do do you push yourself or just lift what you can? Of course smart work may be the same as focused practice.

    At the same time, despite what I feel at times, I’m not sure about the rest of what James said, he has a different POV than Dean’s. And no matter how often I feel that James is right I’m still learning, writing and sending out.

  16. Louis says:

    I could relate to some of what Jeff Baerveldt. I don’t know any Jesuit priests, even though they sure do get around, and never thought God played a cruel joke on me. Also as I implied in my first point here, I haven’t quit but at the same time, as I said already, I can relate to how he felt. As I like to say I feel like the waves and giants are laughing at times.

    And I was glad to read about Debbie Macomber’s talk. It looks like she and I have the same strengths and weaknesses. I’m still shocked at how bad at grammar I was–may still be- which reminds me it’s probably time to reread my grammar book even though I know what will be said before I read it. :)
    I add here though that if I ever brainstormed with Debbie’s friend I would probably come back with only ten ideas. :)

  17. Louis says:

    And I also thought about what Terry Brooks has said about luck. I’m about halfway through his book on writing even though it’s been a while since I picked it up. Dean has already gone over that it and what he says is quite logical. Terry is good and if he missed with his first book he would have sold a novel somewhere else.

    And I also was going to ask about that fantasy novel you’re working on. I like good fantasy so is there anyway you can let us know when it hits the bookstore shelves?

    Also I liked “Hard Rain”. I forget if I liked what Data did but over all it was a great read. And the other book mentioned, if it was the book I think it was, I liked it too, if it’s not that book I didn’t read it. :)

  18. Louis says:

    One last part of my note

    I join some of the others here and say that I think some people do have some innate ability but that is no excuse to not work hard. If they get lazy, depending on just natural talent, they will lose.

    One last thing even though I have been seriously working on my writing for the last six years or so I’ve been a writer all my life. So when I feel like quitting I really mean I would stop trying to be a pro writer. I would keep writing even if I went back to writing stories only in my head.

    There’s more I could say but this would be very long if I do. So I will add some of these comments of mine to my blog. Not sure how many people read it but any that do, will know to come here.

  19. This has been quite an inspiring discussion with so many great comments.

    Maybe Dean’s blog is a good example of what he’s saying here. He’s kept working hard at these sacred cow posts, he’s kept submitting his ideas (some of which have been rejected by other writers LOL), and they keep getting better and better. I love it.

    But don’t let me stop the magic. Carry on :-)

  20. In reference to an earlier post about Steve Alten’s “Meg” — Hell’s Aquarium is not self-published (at least, not any more, don’t know if it was before). Tor has picked it up. I saw a mass-market edition in the supermarket today, so he’s getting good distribution on it.

    Guess he got lucky after all that hard work. ;-)

  21. This is a very interesting discussion, so I’ve got to weigh in.

    I think of talent as the result of hard work.

    What we have initially in any area, defined as talent by most people, is actually aptitude. I believe I have an aptitude for writing fiction, and that with enough hard and persistent work, I can become talented at it and earn a good living at it.

    Some would ask where my aptitude comes from. I’ve always found my favorite films and books to be the ones with the strongest stories and characters. Without realizing it, over the past thirty-something years, I’ve very emotionally responded to certain stories, and not to others. And the stories I’ve responded strongly to, I’ve come back to again and again.

    So basically, I’ve been studying all that time, and I know that strong characters and story are what creates a great novel or film. It is true with Harry Potter, Twilight, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and all the other mega-successes out there. The characters and stories are what we come back to.

    Peter Jackson once said that when those of us who were alive in 1977 think back on our first experience of Star Wars, we don’t remember all the special effects, that were so successful they had to invent new categories at the Academy Awards to grant them their accolades. Rather, what we remember is the struggle between good and evil, and the characters, because the emotions are so strong in the story.

    George Lucas hired Irving Kerschner to direct The Empire Strikes Back because he knew he needed a very strong director for that one. He told Kersch, “If the second one fails, then the franchise is done. But if the second one is great, then I can keep making more of them.”

    Kerschner replied, “Gee, George. You’re not putting me in a very good position here.”

    He took the job, nailed it, making arguably the best film of the entire series (due to all the emotion in the characters), and the film industry hasn’t been the same since.

    Rowling did the same thing, as Dean pointed out.

    Luck, on the other hand, has nothing to do with talent or hard work, and that’s why Dean gets offended when people attribute someone’s success to it.

    Luck is winning a lottery or on a slot machine. Those things are completely random, and you either win or you don’t. You cannot sway the odds at all. If you win, that was chance, or luck.

    I don’t see the correlation to the publishing industry, because I don’t see how luck can cause:

    1. A writer to produce a novel
    2. An editor to buy it
    3. A publisher to publish it
    4. A marketing department to push it
    5. Distributors to buy and distribute it
    6. Readers to buy the book by the millions
    7. Hollywood to buy the rights
    8. Billions of people to see the movie, even if they’ve read the book and the film is different
    9. Millions of people to buy the DVDs, again and again
    10. Universal Studios to start a theme park

    Et cetera. The chance that all those things could occur at random is astronomical, so much so that it has to be impossible.

    Luck can’t even get you past number 1 in that list, and it CERTAINLY will not get you past number 2.

    On the other hand, there is some advantage to hitting an editor and her house at the right time, so that the story grabs them and they buy it and push it and so on. As mentioned, Rowling did have that stroke of chance (or luck) on her 19th submission. I believe that some other hugely popular story, like Dune or LotR (I don’t recall), had something like 50 rejections before being picked up.

    I believe that any story written, if written very well (call it talent or skill), will eventually be picked up. That’s evident from the stories of writers who don’t become successful until after their deaths. I believe Moby Dick was rather inconsequential in its day, but became hugely popular well after the author’s death, simply because the world became interested in a whale story.

    And this goes across all fields. Try telling Michael Jordan he was lucky. When he was at North Carolina, he was sort of in the background until he won a dunk competition. Luck, I guess. But he won that because he trained for something like 12 to 15 years until be became Air Jordan. And then he kept working for another 15 years or so.

    Same story, over and over.

  22. Patrick Alan says:

    I think the confusion lies in two interpretations of the word ‘talent’.

    I think a lot of times people think of ‘talent’ as the speed at which they learn.

    So, if you had two students that you were teaching the same thing at the same time and one learned faster, you would call that student more talented. If these two students were to continue to apply the same amount of studying/work, the ‘talented’ one would show more skill/ability.

    Now, when applying the word talent outside of that, it doesn’t consider the amount of work involved.

    I think the confusion comes from understanding the work involved. If the ‘talented’ student learns/improves at twice the rate as the other student, but only does half the work, then they have aproximately the same talent, but some would still consider the ‘talented’ student more talented simply for their speed of learning.

    I think your point, Dean, is to say that it’s ok to be the student who works harder. In many cases, it’s better, because you’ve built the work ethic.

  23. Rachel Hobbs says:

    Dean,
    Thanks for the reply. And I totally get that. :)

  24. I like Jeremy’s distinction on talent vs aptitude.

    However, I think that to most people, the word talent implies natural, inborn aptitude. Regardless of what our dictionary says, that’s the most common assumption about the meaning of talent. It’s usually understood in the sense that someone is a natural at what they do, even before hard work and practice.

    For example, Steve Nash said recently that the Suns’ starting five from a few years back was more “talented” than his current team, and then suggested that his current guys work harder, want it more, or something like that. I think that’s the most common usage of the term.

    We’ve talked about how that’s an unfortunate usage of the term, since the most “talented” folks are usually the ones who work the hardest. But I think that’s the common idea, flawed as it may be.

    I really like Dean’s philosophy about all of this, but just to stir the pot a little, here’s something else to debate …

    James Frenkel, longtime Tor editor, says on a PW blog: “Good writing can be, to some extent, learned. Good storytelling, however, seems to be a talent, not a learned skill.”

    Now that should make someone angry :-)

    • dwsmith says:

      Not surprising Jim said that. But my question is “How does he know?” He’s an editor, not a writer.

      Always remember to look at the source, folks, of some of this “advice” flying around for writers. If it comes from someone who only watches writers from a distance, more than likely it’s just flat wrong. Editors and agents pretending to teach writing just makes me snort with barely contained laughter and sadness at all the young writers they are screwing up.

      Agents can teach how to agent if they are good at it. Editors can teach how to edit and what the process is inside their publishing houses. But the moment they cross the line into “how to write” and get inside writer’s offices, the information they are providing goes very, very sour and often deadly.

  25. You make a good point, Moses, and you’re right. Most people refer to talent as innate ability.

    As long as it’s all right in my own head, though, it’s fine with me. :)

  26. Steve Lewis says:

    Sorry, about the Meg books Alastair, that was me. I guess I misunderstood what Dean said. But still ‘Hell’s Aquarium’ cracks me up. Now for all I know if I read the book I’d love it, God knows the idea caught my attention when the first book came out. I guess maybe the title just seems over the top. But I like Duane Swierczynski’s books, so who am I to judge ? :)

  27. Geri J. says:

    Hey, Dean –

    Love this post. This line really hit home with me:

    All my life, people have told me that I am lucky because I have a talent for (fill in the blanks). BS. I’ve worked my butt off.

    When I was a dancer, I certainly wasn’t as inherently talented as some of the others, but I worked so hard (in class, doing the studio books, assistant teaching, wardrobe mistress — oh, sure, I can make 18 boned-bodice Syphide costumes — no problem) that teachers gave me the scholarships. It was worth their time and money to give it to someone who would make the best use of the opportunity. And I did get pretty good.

    Five years ago, I got hit with the “lucky” tag again. At my office, people were being mistreated, fired, pushed to quit, overworked, the usual. We were all grousing one day (our privilege as grunts), when one of my coworkers said, “Well, it’s different for you. You have a talent for writing and editing.”

    At that moment, I channeled my inner Kris, turned on the woman, and said, “How dare you? Luck? Are you nuts? For the past 20 years, I have taken editing seminars and classes, got a massage certificate, took classes at professional cooking schools, became a Graduate Gemologist, and spend 15 years in legal, where I took on any editing assignment I could get. I also freelanced for publishers whenever the opportunity arose (the first book took me three weeks, four hours a night and all day Saturday to edit; I made only $250).

    “This latest piece of “luck” — While you were at home growing roots from your tush into the couch, I was taking a public relations writing class. The instructor liked my stuff. While I was in the class, the instructor was made the editor of the local alternative weekly newspaper. At the end of the last class, he wondered if it was ethical to solicit work from students. I said the class was over, and we were no longer students. Two days later, he e-mailed me and bought one of my class assignments.”

    (OK, so a career as a diplomat is certainly out of the question.)

    Luck? A bit. But even though my day job wiped me out, I was there. And I didn’t slough off on my assignments, which ranged from dance to local politics. I have written for the newspaper these past five years (never missing a deadline), which led to a bunch of other good things.

    Sometimes, I have been at the right place at the right time, but it sure didn’t hurt to be prepared.

  28. Here’s an appropriate quote from the Quotes of the Day feed that I get, from Asimov:

    “You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you’re working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success – but only if you persist.”

    This is taken out of context, but it’s still a meaningful quote. He says that one must have talent to be successful, but doesn’t define what that is, or give any indication that he assumes it to be static.

    But he is hitting on Heinlein’s #4 and #5 very hard, and ends by saying that they are the only thing that matters, even if you do have talent.

  29. I should clarify that. I don’t get the feed from Isaac Asimov. Rather, the quote is from Asimov.

  30. Yep, it doesn’t matter how “talented” you are, editors aren’t going to go digging through your hard drive to see what you’ve got for them.

    Although your heirs might if you’ve had a very successful career. ;-)

  31. Steve Perry says:

    Luck does matter, though.

    Off the top of my head:

    The first novel I sold was one of three with similar themes that crossed my editor’s desk in a single week, she told me. So, mine was the best, right? No, I happened to read yours first. Either of the other two would have been publishable.

    Good luck for me, not for them.

    Or, as the editor starts to read your ms, she spills hot coffee on her lap, and by the time she gets herself together, she thinks she’s read that one already and puts it in the read-it pile. Remembers this later, but by then, doesn’t care.

    A bored movie producer on a cross-country flight finds a copy of F&SF stuck into the back of the seat in front of him and reads it. Comes across a story he loves, contacts the writer, and offers him a gig to write a script based on the story. Herb Varley’s “Air Raid.”

    Terrible movie, but still.

    A movie producer walking down a hall in a studio hears two people talking. One of them has the most droning, dead-pan, boring voice he’s ever heard, and he’s looking for that, so he knocks on the door and asks the speaker if he wants to be in his movie. Guy had done a walk-on before, but he was primarily a writer. He took the job and it turned into a full-time career as an actor. Ben Stein.

    You can’t depend on luck, but as has been said before and with good reason, it’s sometimes better to be lucky than good.

    • dwsmith says:

      Just had a hard lesson in poker tonight in the value in the short run of luck over skill.

      But over time I’ll take my skill over the luck every day. But tonight, a lesson on “luck.” And not a favorable one for me, alas.

  32. In terms of a graph, luck is the noise, skill is the trend. Yeah, sometimes you’ll get a real spike up or down, but in the long haul, the trend matters.

    In Steve’s examples, that coffee-spilling editor might not have liked the story anyway, and if it’s good, there’s always the next editor. Ditto with the two similarly-themed stories that your editor rejected.

    But sure, there’s some luck. Harrison Ford was working as a carpenter doing some work for Lucas when Lucas put him in American Graffiti, and the connection later got him a reading for the part of Han Solo. But he also had the skill to perform a good reading.

    Sorry to hear about the card game, Dean.

  33. Actually, Ford was called in to read Solo to the auditioning actors, but was not allowed to audition, because Lucas wanted fresh faces.

    It was only after hundreds of hours of Ford’s readings, and finding no better Han Solo, that Lucas reluctantly allowed Ford to play the part.

    Later, when he was casting for Indiana Jones, he also wanted someone else, but it was Steven Spielberg who insisted that there was no better actor to play Jones than Ford.

    Both series would likely have failed miserably without Ford (or any of the other actors). Lucas was smart to allow him to do those roles.

  34. Granted, it was because Ford had earned the role on American Graffiti that he was called in to read for Solo, but he earned the role for AG, and earned the role for Han Solo, as well.

    In Ford’s own words, he auditioned well, and he got Solo due to no shortage of convincing Lucas he was right for the part.

    I’m sure that Ford would not say that either were due to luck, though he does say he’s fortunate to have met Lucas at such a young age.

    But he also says he’s fortunate that he recognized the archetypes at play in Star Wars due to his past studies, and knew the story was going to hit with at least some of the people, so he desperately wanted to do the film.

  35. Steve Perry says:

    Sure, skill over time is more dependable than luck, but you simply cannot discount it entirely. Shit happens, but so does sunshine, and being in the right place at the right time can give you a shot you might not get otherwise.

    You can’t depend on it, but it does matter. If it pops in your favor, smile and go for it.

    In the long run? Well, in the long run we are all dead. Sometimes the short-run is gonna be the name of the game …

    By the by, Tom Selleck was supposed to play Indy, he was offered the role, and if he could have gotten out of his TV gig doing Magnum, P.I. in Hawaii, he would have. He couldn’t and thus didn’t.

    That’s why Ford got the gig. Selleck’s bad; Ford’s good.

    Somewhere in my unfocused past, I recall seeing a one-sheet mock-up with Selleck as Indy.

    (I think Selleck’s turn as Jesse Stone is brilliant, but as Indy? I dunno. Hard to imagine anybody else as Indy now.)

    • dwsmith says:

      I don’t think I’m making my point very clearly on the luck issue.

      I do, as Steve said, believe that luck plays a role in the short term, with small and large things. No argument.

      But I do believe that luck favors the prepared. And that luck levels out in the long run and skill and hard work dominate.

      And I personally HATE people who whine that they were unlucky. That puts the focus all on luck and not the person’s own stupidity or lack of work. And I HATE EVEN MORE the people who think the only reason I’m making a living at writing is because I’m lucky. All that does is make me mad and devalues the work I have done.

      I am making my living at writing because I worked harder than most people in this business. Did that create some good luck? Maybe, or maybe not. But as a poker player who has been knocked out of major tournaments because some idiot got himself into needing to draw only one card in a deck to beat me and he drew it, I understand luck. But I will sit down with that same idiot a dozen times and win ten times vs his two lucky draws.

      So, of course, luck exists, in the short term, and if your world view doesn’t extend to any long term, then you ride the waves of luck through your entire live, up and down. But if your world view is longer term, then you know luck evens out and skill and hard work win the day always.

  36. Yes, that’s very concrete, Dean. And I agree with you.

    I also agree with Steve. Good luck is always helpful, and I’ll take it any day. But as Dean said, holding out for luck is a bad idea, because it more often than not will get you nowhere.

    That’s why I’m so against the idea of luck, and I’m not making myself clear either. When someone asserts that someone who is immensely successful was lucky his first time out, I read that the person is only successful because he was lucky. That is extremely rarely the case, and that’s the point I’m trying to make.

    That said, almost everyone who is immensely, or even moderately, successful was in the right place at the right time one or more times. But they also had the training to recognize not only the right place and right time, but where those might be in advance, so they could influence the Fates in their favor. I hope that expresses what I’m trying to say.

    And Steve, you’re right about Selleck. I totally forgot about that. I’ve seen the video of him reading for the part, wearing the hat and jacket (and by the way, I found it terrible). That would have been a huge mistake.

    But I like Tom Selleck. He’s very good in the right kind of role (for me). Indy is simply not it. But I’ve never seen him do it, so I could be wrong.

    • dwsmith says:

      Okay, let me give you a situation that most would call very, very lucky that happened to me.

      One fine year at Southwest Writers Conference, when it was still a big major conference, I was an invited guest. Normally the food at that conference was great and I had enjoyed it for years, but this one year the food sucked. Every meal. Luck point #1. But no luck really because I had done the hard work and had the career to be an invited guest to experience the horrible food.

      A bunch of us editors and writers got talking on Saturday afternoon about not wanting to even chance another bad meal, but we were supposed to sit at tables with nine attendees so we all needed to be there. So we decided to pass on the meal and sit and talk with the attendees at our tables, then when the keynote speaker started and we couldn’t talk anymore, we would all leave and go to a good restaurant and have a decent meal. A publisher paid for it. Luck point #2, but not really because see the note above, I was part of the editor and writer pros attending due to my sales and hard work as an editor.

      At the restaurant I ended up sitting next to one of my editors since we had known each other for a decade and were friends. There were nine of us at that table. We got talking and I mentioned that Kris and I had been hired to do this three book sf series with another publisher (Kris was not at the conference with me) and we were excited about the project. Suddenly my editor turned to the women beside her, another editor at the same company, and said, “You know that project you have been looking for a writer to do? Dean would be perfect for it.”

      The two editors switched places at the table and I talked to and got to know the other editor and she offered me to two Men in Black novels if the folks in Hollywood liked my credentials. Luck #3. But again, not luck because I had already done the hard work on novels with the first editor, and I had the credentials that Hollywood liked the idea of me doing them, and then I managed to write a couple of proposals that Hollywood and New York both liked.

      So I can safely say as a story it was lucky I got the Men in Black books and I could tell the story putting down and not mentioning the real reason I got those books. But screw that, I worked my ass off for decades to be in position, to have the credentials, to be in position at that conference, to be hired to write those books.

      As Kevin J. Anderson said, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”

      So that’s why I hate when someone puts down my work or any other professional writer as making it by just being lucky. It’s insulting.

  37. Louis says:

    I can well understand why you feel that way Dean. I would feel the same way under the same circumstances.

    And I see what Anderson meant by his statement.

  38. nathan says:

    That story, Dean, is such a prime example of why proponents of luck drive me crazy (in a very mild, conversational sort of way).

    A not un-typical response to that story would be “you sure were lucky to be in the right place at the right time” when clearly that view of the workings of chance in the cosmos (much like Brooks manuscript) doesn’t survive a close look at the variables.

    Is there such a thing as luck in the abstract? Sure, I’m not trying to be deliberatly obtuse: you’re walking along; you find fifty dollars. That’s lucky, sure, fine.

    But in a professional sense? Come on–no story of luck exists on the merits of luck. No professional tale even really survives the use of the term serendipity once you look at what an author does prior to arriving at “the right place” at the “right time.”

    It *seems* (I can also be wrong) that a great many of the arguments for luck that are made either come from the overly semantical camp (never say never damnit!) that seem hung up on rhetorical precision so fine it’s divorced from the truth of the trenches–or an emotional place that lets us put either our success or our failure down to an outside force, and thus making either outcome lets anxious.

  39. Steve Lewis says:

    I don’t how Dean feels about Nathan’s post, but I think he hit the nail on the head and gave me some food for thought. Thanks Nathan.

  40. Just a quick note. I got word this morning that someone I know through the InterToob just scored a major break-in publishing victory. He has come so close, for years. And occasionally despaired. But now he’s done it, and in a big way, and I don’t think it was talent as much as just his refusal to quit. As Dean says, he made his own ‘luck’ by continuing to write and submit, without fail. Very happy for him.

  41. I saw a great quote from Thomas Edison this morning that suits this myth perfectly.

    “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.”

  42. Talent? Who needs talent? What I need are sales!

    For that, I need product worth buying – lots of it – and the drive to put it on the market and KEEP it there until it DOES sell.

    And to get to that point, I need to swallow my fears – of success, failure, ridicule – and just work as diligently and intelligently as I am able.

    Possibly my sons or grand children will end up selling work that I can’t even give away today. That’s success, too.

    I think that I am clear on that point but I have a question for you: how traceable are pen names and when / where should they be used / avoided?

    • dwsmith says:

      Bill,

      Pen names are as traceable or untraceable as you want them to be. Many of my names are open pen names, a few are very tightly held where three people on the planet know it’s me. Kris, me, my editor. (Maybe the publisher, but not likely.)

      Use them when you are switching genres, when your first published name has crashed, when you are a doctor and don’t want your patients to know you write. Or when your original name sucks to the point no one will remember it or pronounce it. I’ve heard Evan Hunter’s real name a dozen times and can never remember it. But I can remember Evan Hunter and also one of his other names. Ed McBain.

  43. Brandon says:

    Thank you! This post was great and so true. Little anecdote for you (even though the plural of ‘anecdote’ isn’t ‘data,’ we all still love anecdotes): I took a creative writing class in college. The professor and the class all hated everything I wrote. Literally everything. The professor constantly told me that I had no talent in writing because I was a philosophy major and thought too much. And I did; my writing reflected that. What worked so well for me in analytical essays completely failed me when writing a short story. A few of the students were “talented” and did little work over the semester. Their first or second short story was good enough to coast the rest of the semester. The professor told me that the only way I’d get an A in the class was if I worked my ass off. Not wanting an elective course I took for fun to mar my GPA, I did work my ass off. I wrote constantly. And then I wrote more. And then I threw everything out and wrote more, and so on and so on. At the end of the class, I had a pile of crappy short stories. Oh, they were really terrible; I’m not just saying that because I hate my own writing. But after all of that writing, I had one solid short story. I had finally learned to shut off my analytical, overthinking side of my brain and just tell a damn story (sounds so obvious, in retrospect). I submitted it the next semester for my college’s annual short story competition, as did those “talented” classmates. And I won. My classmates were pissed. How could I have possibly won? My work was such crap! Well, I kept at it, as you’ve said, and it paid off. I kept writing all through college and now my stuff is pretty good. That professor who hated my work calls herself my biggest fan, and I’m working on a novel now. And I really believe it will get published. Not because I think I’m naturally talented and deserve it, but because I’ve written so much and learned from my mistakes that I can tell a good story, and the story is good so far.

    You’re an inspiration. I have not once considered leaving my current work in progress unfinished. I’m a writer. Whether this novel is ever published is utterly irrelevant to me. I have to tell this story; it won’t leave me alone until I do. If no one ever reads it except me, that’s fine. But because of your posts, I’m going to send it out everywhere. It’s a good story, like “Precious” but for a different demographic. And I’m having a hell of a good time writing it, and I’m writing it fast, and, by god, I’m gonna send it everywhere I can. It deserves the chance to be read and I’m not going to let my lack of “natural talent” keep me down! :-)

  44. I have a few things to say on this topic.

    I do not believe in luck or talent. I define what people call luck as when preperation meets opportunity. Do you think Olympic athletes go into their sport thinking, “Gee, if I’m lucky I’ll win a gold medal.” Are you kidding? They prepare for years and years and work hard to be ready for the opportunity to win gold. Why doesn’t every competitor win gold? Some prepare more than others, some make a mistake and lose by a hair. Today their preparation failed them but do they give up? No, of course not. The gold medal winners are often the ones who went back and assessed what they did right and what they did wrong, learned more then worked even harder.

    It’s the same in publishing or any profession. Luck is a myth.

    Talent? If you watch reality shows like American Idol or America’s Got Talent you quickly see the competitors who stand out are the ones who have prepared and trained and trained, often for a long time, to be as good as they are. They didn’t one day decide, “Hey, I want to be a singer so I’ll go on American Idol.” The ones who do this are so obvious it’s painful.

    I am a prime example of what Dean is talking about when he speaks about talent. When I first started writing my manuscripts were covered in scabs. They were awful and unreadable, except there was evidence beneath the scabs of a story teller. Now was this talent? No. It was preparation.

    I’ve been a reader all my life since I could pick up a book and I love movies. I’ve watched hundreds and hundreds of movies and I’ve read mountians of books. I have a large movie and book collection. (my wife says too large but, hey I collect what can I do?)

    Story has been implanted on my brain. I love story. And I like to smash ideas together.

    What heppened after all this preparation? After years of practice and rejection I have sold several short stories in multiple genres and I just sold my second novel.

    So how does a guy with no talent and no luck get published? Hard work, guys. There are no short cuts.

    James, if what you say is true then all I can say is you had to have prepared in some way before you sat down and wrote that first manuscript. What you describe just does not happen in the real world.

    Talent is a myth.

    Dean is 100% right on.

    • dwsmith says:

      Thanks, Russ. It’s why I always knew you would make it. You have the ability to work and work hard and focus and pay the price. Great job and thanks.

  45. Stephen Hutchison says:

    I am reading these for the first time and finding them very useful.
    My semantic quibble sense is tingling though.

    There are two dictionary meanings to the word Talent. The first is ‘a marked innate ability, as for artistic accomplishment.’ The first differentiation is ‘natural endowment or ability of a superior quality.’

    The second refers to the archaic measurement system wherein a talent is a fixed weight of metal.

    The second definition actually spawned the first, and I believe but haven’t verified this, that it came by way of metaphor in the New Testament, referring to the parable of the talents.
    All skills and potentials no matter how developed were seen as gifts granted for a time by God, to be used in a way that bettered the world. Injury, death, or disease could take them away at any time and apparently at random, after all.

    Whatever one’s thoughts on that theology, the contradiction becomes evident.

    I think that there is such a thing as natural, innate endowment, that people have the potential to become very good at something with less effort than others. I cite Dr. Howard Gardner’s theories of multiple intelligences, which are based on brain structure.

    There is also, obviously, the development of skills and abilities.
    The use of the word ‘talent’ to describe a skill or ability which has been carefully developed and cultivated to be superior to one’s peers, that’s (in my opinion) a mis-use. But the word ‘talent’ still gets thrown sloppily at it from the “gifts” frame of mind.

    Pragmatically, as you’ve indicated, claims of talent or lack of talent can often be destructive to the conviction and drive required to develop any skill or ability. Calling a potential a talent, identifies it as something that could be developed, and that shouldn’t be a bad thing.

    But calling a well-developed and well-trained skill a talent removes credit and responsibility for the use of that skill from the one who exercises it.

    So I’d rather not use the word at all for that.

  46. greggarious says:

    I think of talent as a gift given to me from the Great Mystery.
    Everyone has a talent therefore for words. We are all, to some degree or another, gifted with the ability or affinity or propensity to make words. Just as birds have the gift for singing. It could be argued that some, pre-verbal children, autistic or mute or disabled people, in some way don’t have this gift, but I would reply that they also have it, just in so small a degree that it is not manifest to us. Within themselves they still have the gift of words.
    And yes, all gifts or talents require development. Perhaps the ability to develop gifts is another gift, one we all have to some greater or lesser degree, and it too can be developed. I see Dean’s thoughts on this as supporting and encouraging the development of our gift to develop our gifts of writing. I remember a book by Irene Kassorla called Go For It, where she demonstrated that positive reinforcement and encouragement and praise for actions in the direction of the goal had 40 times the power to change behavior as negative reinforcement, discouragement, and (what’s the opposite of praise?) scolding.
    Using such an approach, she had a severely catatonic man who had been unable to produce a word or read anything in years speaking in full sentences and reading newspapers in 2 weeks! She started out praising and encouraging even the slightest sounds or mouth movements in him, like burps or drools.
    Yes, gifts can be and must be developed and encouraged, and I believe another myth that could be written about is the one of the self-made man. Probably everyone had some kind of influence or inspiration from others to excell, even if it was a ‘negative’ one, such as: I’ll never be like that person.
    Dean is truly a positive influence to excell. Now I have to apply the inspiration and encouragement, as I have been procrastinating to do. So according to Go For It, I praise my intention to apply myself–way to do greggarious, excellent intention–and then celebrate even the briefest moments of writing–even these words here.
    Thanks to everyone for sharing here. You are writing!

  47. DensityDuck says:

    Yes, hard work is necessary for success. But there’s success, and then there’s *outstanding* success. Some people might define “success” as “I can retire off my residuals”. Other people might not consider themselves successful until they can walk into any bookstore in the nation and find a hardcover with their name on it. These two people will both work hard, but they will have strongly different opinions of how much luck had to do with achieving what they call “success”.

    And I think you’re learning the wrong lesson from your poker experience. You say “luck evens out”, but how many tens of thousands of poker hands have you played? Now imagine a world where you only get to play one poker hand a year, maybe two. Suddenly luck is a bigger deal. (That said, you can change the game by playing more hands–or, rather, writing more books, submitting them to more publishers, that sort of thing.)

    Seems to me that being all glib, dropping lines like “talent doesn’t exist”, only acts to devalue the people who *are* gifted. It’s looking at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and snorting, saying “oh, *anyone* could do that, *I* could do that if I *worked* hard enough”. It’s trying to tear down the truly outstanding from some weird sense of jealousy.

  48. Joshua M Simpson says:

    I hadn’t planned on commenting until I’d caught up to something more current, but I can’t stand to let DensityDuck’s comment be the last one here.

    “Seems to me that being all glib, dropping lines like “talent doesn’t exist”, only acts to devalue the people who *are* gifted. It’s looking at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and snorting, saying “oh, *anyone* could do that, *I* could do that if I *worked* hard enough”. It’s trying to tear down the truly outstanding from some weird sense of jealousy.”

    That statement makes no sense. Do you think Michelangelo didn’t work for years to be good enough to paint that? He painted it at the age of 30, but he apprenticed as a painter at the age of 9, had traveled extensively, studied anatomy and multiple other artistic disciplines, etc. In other words, he had worked his butt off.

    Why in the world would you want to assume that someone’s product is impossible to equal by labeling it as the production of someone “gifted” or “talented” rather than the product of someone who worked like Hell to get where they were? And if, hypothetically, someone were capable of achieving some great product with no hard work and based on sheer “talent” (and I challenge anyone to produce evidence that such a product exists or ever has existed), why would you consider that a greater achievement and more worthy of praise than a product produced by someone who had put effort into the achieving of it?

    That’s just being a damn fool, and I suspect the result of someone being told “You are soooo talented” and feeling very special because of it (without, I suspect, any actual product of significance to justify such sentiments). Having been that person, I feel no sympathy, since it has never been anything other than a terrible detriment to me, and cost me many opportunities that I could have capitalized on had I been a damn sight less “talented” and a helluva lot more work-oriented.

    At any rate, it’s not as if Dean (or those of similar opinion) are in any way downplaying someone’s product. Quite the opposite, they are saying that attributing it to some effortless “talent” disregards all the legitimate effort and sacrifice that went in, which the person should justifiably receive credit for.

    Hell, even God worked for 7 days.

  49. Raven says:

    I pretty much agree that aptitude is a better word than talent. For me, the myth has always been helpful, despite the fact that it’s a myth. You see, I’m “talented” in a few areas, but I have passion in many. I’m also a perfectionist AND indecisive. If I didn’t listen to the myth of talent, and I thought I was starting out on equal footing on ALL the areas in which I have passion . . . well, I wouldn’t develop ANY of them: I’d be paralyzed with indecision.

    For me, “talent” or aptitude is NOT a fixed ability. It’s a potential. It means that if I have the option between two pursuits in which I have passion, and I work equally hard at both of them, in one, I may only reach mediocrity, but in the other, I might actually be good. And if I work even harder at the one where I feel I am talented, I might become great. The thought of feeling “talented” meaning I don’t have to work — I know there are people for whom that’s true; it’s not true of me. Even “talented” people need to be challenged, or they’re stuck in mediocrity, which, to me, is as far as “talent” can lead without work. And I’m not satisfied with mediocrity. I suppose it doesn’t hurt that I get bored without a challenge ;) . If I thought I had nothing more to improve and nothing more to learn, I’d be seriously depressed. There would be no point in living. Luckily, I’m fairly certain that will never be the case.

    Also, in regards to foreign languages (which I realize is NOT writing), they’ve shown that to go from no language to basic language takes work, but happens relatively quickly. Going from basic to intermediate takes more work. And going from intermediate to advanced takes even more work. Talent in language-learning does exist (I have it and I’ve taught people who don’t: they worked so much harder than I did when I was lazy, but did not get as far), but it only takes you to the top of the novice level. After that you need work and practice, and lots of it. Superior level involves almost mythic proportions of work.

    So, for me, talent doesn’t help in terms of comparing myself to others, but it’s extremely helpful in comparing my own abilities against each other. The things where at least the basics are easier become much more attractive for further work, because I feel I have more of a shot that my work WILL help me succeed. It gives me more confidence, which allows me to handle criticism better (i.e. I see the work that needs to be done without taking it personally, as in “Oh no, I’m a bad writer!” which is what happens when I feel I’m starting from a place with no talent). In other words, for me, feeling like I have a talent to begin with means I’m actually willing to do MORE work, because that work doesn’t feel wasted or futile. It feels like it can actually lead somewhere.

    At the same time, I would NEVER discourage anyone else about pursuing their passion by mentioning the T-word. As I said, it’s not at all helpful in any objective sense OR in any comparison between/among people. It’s only helpful to ME when I compare different pursuits that fascinate me. The people who amaze me most are the people who have passion for something in which they don’t have a lot of talent, but still become great. It’s very possible and much more admirable than anything I’ll ever do.

    This is really long, but you’ve given me a lot to think about with this one.

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