Sans Fig Leaf
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"Ring out the bells"
24 December, 2003
Talents are seldom treated equally. My Uncle Joe has a real talent for automotive body work. He can transform a crumpled piece of metal back into a smoothly curving surface with an ease and precision that looks like magic. When he wanted to pursue auto body repair as a career, no one in the family thought he was wasting his time.
On the other hand, when I displayed a talent for writing, many members of the family thought that my interest in fiction writing was a waste of time. When I displayed what seemed to be a talent for public speaking, they thought my interest in theatre and debate was a waste of time. When I exhibited some talent at music, they though my interest in producing concerts, concert tours, and other musical programs was a waste of time.
Not a total waste of time, mind you. Each pursuit was encouraged at first, though I eventually learned the support was conditional. When I failed to make a declaration that I intended to become a preacher, or a "Christian musician" or a "Christian writer," family enthusiasm cooled. If I'd shown a talent for something they considered an ordinary career, they would have had no trouble accepting my wish to pursue it. But I seemed to have Talent (with a capital 't') and that clearly meant that just trying to earn a living with it would be a waste.
It hasn't just been my evangelical relatives who worry about me wasting my "gifts." Other friends occasionally ask wistfully why I don't try harder to get my fiction sold to mainstream markets. Never mind that I've been earning my living for fifteen years writing, with occasional illustration and book layout and design work. I'm wasting my talent on computer manuals when I should be on a best seller list somewhere--or so they seem to think.
I've never quite seen it that way. I don't think that the things my Uncle Joe can do with a crunched quarter panel are any less amazing or important than any story or song or idea I've ever come up with. In many ways I think there's more artistry in what he does with sheet metal than anything I've ever created.
The truth is that I don't have a great musical talent, nor an exceptional writing ability, or even an extraordinary knack for performing. Those are skills that I picked up and honed while exercising my real talent: a knack for analyzing complexities and imagining unforeseen possibilities.
We put too much emphasis on "talent" and forget that dedication, practice, and an eagerness to do well are all much more important.
Music and literature and art are simply forms of communication. One heart is attempting to communication with another or many others. The real power and magic of the art is that connection between the hearts, not the subtlety of technique or the bold execution.
That's why I like putting so much of my effort into a small press project. I get to help people make that connection. Some of them learn from the experience and go on to other things. But even the ones that don't had the chance to experience the connection.
There is nothing more rewarding than that look of happiness I see on the face of someone whose story or poem or artwork has been published in a zine or book I'm responsible for. Which is why I'm going to keep editing and publishing as long as I'm able, and continue to encourage others to try their hand at drawing, writing, singing, dancing, or any pursuit that exresses their ideas and hopes.
If you have a chance this week, why not give it a try. Open your mouth and sing along with a carrol. Take up a pen and write a note to a friend. Don't let the magic pass you by.
--Charles Dickens