(Note: While I typically avoid using names without express permission, aside from those of established writers I'm referencing, I have done so in this piece because I feel that no one I mention will have any qualms about being praised.)
I'm a big fan of Stephen King. Not an "every single thing he's ever written in signed, first-edition hardcover" big fan, but a big enough fan that I'll defend the merits of his writing to anyone at anytime. I think he's brilliant as a storyteller and he has a real, enduring, and obvious love of the language. That's why I'm a fan. Personally, I don't even like some of the things he's written. His style can be a little bit long-winded sometimes, but I respect that its because of his attention to detail, not because he likes to waste words. So although I don't dig every story he writes, I do respect them and I do think he's a great writer.
I think he also understands what goes into being a great writer.
So this morning I picked up On Writing and started reading through it again, just to spend some idle time doing something halfway productive. It got me thinking about talent. And what can be done with talent. See, there doesn't seem to be any real equation for becoming a successful writer. There's no steps to follow, no well-worn path to tread that will take you from starting out in this field to popular success. Or literary success, for that matter. They are, after all, different things. In some cases, as with Mr. King and dozens of others, this is silly. In other cases, as with that broad who wrote Twilight, this makes perfect sense. Those Twilight novels are popular fiction, fodder for the masses. They reach a large audience, but really have no literary substance. They're bland, boring, bullshit. That may be solely my opinion but, let's face it, I'm right.
So I'm pondering this odd sort of juxtaposition of writers in our culture and I think it comes down to talent and teaching. To be a great writer, in any sense, or hell even a good writer, you need a bit of both.
King says, and I agree, that plenty of people have some degree of talent, however large or small. My friend Russ can tell a story that will have you pissing yourself laughing. He's not a writer (he's told me this on several occasions) but he's got the talent for telling stories. He can move you with them in the ways that all great storytellers can, and that's something to be admired. Its the talent, to some degree. That, I think, is the part that has to be natural. You can't teach someone talent or creativity. Those things aren't made they're born into us. The love of words is, I think, equally gifted to us, but it exists in more people than most of us realize, again to some lesser or greater degree. Not everyone can be a writer, not even a large minority of people, but there are many, many people that have some talent.
The rest, I think, is taught. The little devices we use to make our stories more poignant, the syntax, the structure, the style. We're taught these things and, especially with style, we adapt them to our own, but everyone needs that base.
I'm not shy about talent. Whether I have it in some vast, brilliant pool or not is subject to debate but I'll admit freely that I have some natural ability (and affinity) for wordsmithing. I've pursued it most of my life. I think it comes heavily from my parents. Both of them are writers (or the amateur sort, neither of them really had the opportunity to really pursue it as I have). My mother is a poet in many ways, who has such a grasp of language (I think without even realizing it sometimes) that it will occasionally startle me. I've even managed to (in my younger, more daring days) read some things she's written in the years since I was born, things I'm not sure she ever meant anyone to see, and they are breathtaking. My father is a prose man, a novelist at heart, who grew up reading Asimov and Sagan and their ilk (among others, of course). I've read his opus and, actually, its one of the projects I'm currently working on. Its a brilliant piece of fiction for a man with very little teaching. There are rough places, things that need a great deal of polishing, but the talent is obvious. The teaching is what he lacks.
Both of my parents have been very supportive. Even when I was a child I would sit and tell them outrageous stories (things I don't even recall now) and they would listen raptly. I learned from them the kind of support I'd need to grow into the writer I'm, admittedly, still striving to become. But that isn't the kind of teaching I'm referring to, not exactly.
I've had a number of teachers, as we all do, through school and college. I've loved more than I've loathed, but two of those teachers really stand out. Between them, I think they've taught me just about everything I know in one way or another, and they've given me the kind of extra-familial encouragement that is so vital to pursuing any artistic endeavor. Joy Daniels (I believe she's married now and using a different last name, but I'm not certain) was my English teacher in 8th grade. I'd moved to a new town, a new school, halfway through that year and the transition was a bit rough, although I had no real friends to speak of at my old school and no real connections there. Ms. Daniels was the first teacher that ever saw something I'd written for pleasure and said "Yes, keep doing this. You need to keep doing this."
That was one of the most important days of my entire life. She'd only had me in class for about a week. I don't even know now what possessed me to show her what I was writing, but from then on she took an actual interest in my education and, on many occasions, sought me out and encouraged me to pursue writing. She transferred to the high school, and I had her again my Junior year for English and a Creative Writing/Journalism elective and, although she wasn't into the kind of editing I learned in college, she gave me innumerable bits of advice and, more importantly, confidence. She helped me learn things about grammar and structure that I would go on to refine and work into my own style. She was the first teacher that ever told me, "You need to know the Rules when you're writing, so you know which ones you can bend and break".
When I went to college I knew I was going to the right place when I chose St. Andrews. Everything about that place, even the things we all bitched about while we were enrolled there, is perfect to me. No other place I have ever been has so cultivated both the desire and the ability and the absolute love for every aspect of writing as that school.
More importantly, I met the rest of my teachers there.
Dr. David Bell (which I think I'll always call him when we're talking in person no matter how many years I spend out of his classes) is a novelist and creative writing professor and, frankly, the man who has taught me the most about writing. Some of it was direct, things I learned through his classes or his criticisms, and other times it was indirect. A few months ago something he said during my freshman year (this is almost six years ago, now) finally clicked in my head and the difference it has made is tremendous. I've told the story about how he said if I could just get the dialogue right I'd have a career in this and the impact it made on me, but I think the real reason I was able to learn so much from him (aside from reading his actual novels) is that his mannerisms, his personality, made it easy to learn.
David Bell isn't the kind of professor who lectures. He's too conversational, too sarcastic. He's got this odd sort of acerbic conviviality that makes you want to pay attention to what he's saying because it isn't a dry lecture about proper comma placement and stale texts on writing theories. More importantly, he's one of those rare professors (in fact, every professor I had at that school is of this breed to me) that actually gives a shit about what he's teaching. He didn't get a degree and a teaching job because it pays (I like to think) but because he enjoys writing. That, to me, is the mark of both an accomplished and capable writer and an even better mentor. Also, sometimes I kiss his ass so I feel better about all those times I skipped class to drink before dinner.
Those things aside, I'm not saying that every writer needs to get a degree to be good. Some writers have the capacity to learn without that setting, no matter how informal. Reading, as King says, is the second most important thing a writer can do to improve (second to actually sitting down and writing). Flexing and strengthening that creative muscle is the same as any other muscle. You need to use it. But learning the way I did helped me to find things while I was reading that were useful. For instance, one of the first honest criticisms I ever got was in Dr. Bell's Writing the Novel class and the most common bit of feedback I received on my submissions (aside from "Why the fuck is this freshman in our class?") was that I needed more internal monologue. I needed to be inside my characters' heads more. I needed to show rather than tell. Now when I read, even for pleasure, I keep an eye out for that. How do other writers work the thoughts of their characters into the story and, more critically, how does that add both to the character and the story?
That isn't a natural ability. Its something we learn. I learned other things from my fellow students, my friends, and other writers. From Chantal, who remains my dearest friend, I learned that simply because the genre of story I tell (in this case, fantasy) is something a potential reader isn't interested in, the actual story can draw them in. She does not, ever, read fantasy. It isn't what interests her, but a really compelling story will draw her in regardless of the setting. For a fantasy writer, that's crucial. So many people are turned off immediately by the genre or the funny-sounding names or the nerd-gasm inducing titles like Bones of the Dragon (by Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman). We don't have to cater to those people, but we should endeavor to tell stories that will turn them into fans, stories that transcend silly genres. Stories that are, at their heart, great stories.
Ed taught me to be myself when I write, regardless of the strange, bizarre twists that might include. Tell stories that are important to me, in such a way that they become compelling to other people. Mason taught me that having confidence in my ability is every bit as important as the ability itself. They need to go hand-in-hand, and it doesn't hurt to have a sense of humor about it. In fact, being able to laugh about it, despite how deeply important it is to us, is something that requires both tremendous heart and brass balls. Emily taught me that writing will always be the most important thing in my life, regardless of all the other important things in my life. Whether I dedicate hours and hours every day to it or I get side-tracked by work and obligation and drinking (which happens more often than I like to admit), everything we do is part of the molding process.
Cate taught me to learn from my mistakes. In addition to being a very, very talented writer she's also a ferocious editor. She has the ability to take something and see the potential in it in ways I still don't understand (and she is also one of the people who may kill me for all of this, which is alright). Regardless of any circumstance, she has never gone easy on something I asked for her help with, but she has never been derogatory either. Her criticism has always been more than helpful and, at times, even complimentary. When she finds something weak, something that needs work, she also finds ten ways to improve it and whether I follow that guidance or go another direction with it, the fact that she highlighted those mistakes makes all the difference.
Lastly, Courtney has taught me just about everything I know about inspiration. The most common question writers are asked is where the ideas come from and, quite frankly, there is no real answer to that question. They come from everywhere. Random things spark in your mind, things that may not bring ideas hurtling into another person's head. Even individual writers get their ideas from different places. It isn't something you can explain in simple terms, but inspiration, that creative drive, that insatiable desire to write is something a little more conceivable. At least, for me. The things that inspire me to write, that really get me going, are mostly tangible things. People, music, books, the sorts of things that get me thinking about my own work and, in doing so, inspire me to write. The way that she, herself, inspires me in conversation or by reading something she writes, has taught me a great deal about what it means to be inspired and how those things come to be inspirational.
So I want to leave you with the big idea (because I learned MLA structure, damn it) and that is to learn from the people around you. I've been blessedly surrounded by creative people my entire life, and most of them are writers but, personally, I think most of us are surrounded by creative people in some way or another and, if you have the talent, they will have a lot to teach you.
Gratefully,
-S.R.
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