What Does Talent Mean?

I grew up thinking that if you were talented, learning would be easy.  

I carried this mistaken notion along with me as I walked the gravel road to my grandmother’s house for piano lessons as a young girl.  In the beginner book, I triumphantly learned to play, “Here I Go, Up a Row, to a Birthday Party.” It was so easy to learn, I thought I must be talented. Then I moved on to the intermediate book and the sharps and flats sent me home early from the birthday party. It was no longer easy. My feeling of being talented evaporated. I quit.

As a young woman, I joined Toastmaster’s, a practice group for aspiring public speakers. I noticed that some of the speakers were natural and professional. Their presentations were inspiring, and I assumed their ease meant they were talented; speaking came easy to them.

 It took so long for me to develop and present a speech! Still carrying that mistaken notion, I figured it was easy for the people who made it look easy. One day, I cornered a woman whose speech had impressed me. I had to know if she had practiced and if so, how many times. She laughed and said, “You wouldn’t believe how many times I rehearsed – I’ve been working on this performance for six months.”

Hearing these two experiences from my past, you won’t be surprised to learn how hard it has been for me as a writer to accept that you don’t just sit down and write out the finished product without having to edit. Believe me – that’s what I have wanted and expected of myself.

It’s only now revising Chapter 3 of my second memoir that I am beginning to enjoy the challenge of revision. Just when I think there could not possibly be any other way to say what I’m trying to say, my editor asks a question that I haven’t even considered. I think what’s changed is that I now see that editing adds further layers of meaning to my writing. It’s no longer about whether I have talent. And now, when I read a book where the words seem to have effortlessly flowed from the writer’s pen, I know it’s because that author has worked hard on their craft.  I want to be that writer.

Image: As a girl, when I walked the gravel road to my grandparent’s house, the sidewalk you see in this photo is the one that led me to the front door where I pushed the old-fashioned door chime. Piano students didn’t use the back door. The trees on the horizon were near the house my parents and I lived in. Both of the houses, all the farm buildings, and most of the trees have been destroyed. When I see the fields of corn and beans now occupying the space, it is difficult to picture where the buildings used to be.