That's the theme for the next chapter (FYI, the chapters in Writing From the Inside Out aren't numbered. This one begins on page 23.)
I'm going into this chapter thinking it's an easy one for me because finding ideas is the one part of writing that comes easily to me. Staying focused on one while others pile up around me, tempting, luring with their bright promise - now that's the challenge.
What is interesting t o me in this chapter is Palumbo's thesis that all the emphasis on where writer's get their ideas devalues the notion of craft and reinforces the idea writers have of "not being enough. That some special gift, something outside of the writer - is necessary." (p. 24)
The rest of the short chapter then goes on to focus on the importance of craft.
"Love the craft, the practice of your art, and the peaks will come." (p. 24)
I love that line. Apparently I loved it last time I started this book too because it's the only line in the entire book that I underlined. From the text, it's not clear to me if this advice comes from Palumbo or from George Leonard because it's in a reference to Leonard's Mastery. I think it's Palumbo's words based on Leonard's advice, but whoever gets credit, the advice is worthy of considering.
Which brings me to another thought on craft. Of course now that I want to quote it, I can't find the source, but I know I've read a lot recently about how mastering a subject requires about 5000 hours of practice. (Okay, a bit of googling and I find credit given to Malcolm Gladwell but claimed by someone else. Since I like the someone else's description, I'm going to quote and link that).
There are four levels of proficiency in any valuable skill – incompetence, competence, mastery, and virtuosity.
• To get past incompetence, you must spend about 1,000 hours practicing the skill you eventually want to master.
• After putting in about 1,000 hours, you will be competent. To achieve mastery, you will have to continue to practice that skill for a total of 5,000 hours.
• Virtuosity is extremely rare. You can’t get it simply by practicing. You must also have a natural gift. Even then, you must practice at least 10,000 hours to achieve it.
Michael Jordan was a virtuoso basketball player. Mozart was a virtuoso composer. Warren Buffett has been a virtuoso investor. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you must become a virtuoso. You can achieve greatness and make a fortune by becoming a master of your chosen skill.
The rest of this article has a really interesting discussion about whether hard work is enough or if it's all a matter of luck. Thought-provoking so check it out if you have time. Early to Rise
To connect this all, it seems to me that you either have to love the process, or want something SO badly that you're willing to sacrifice the hours needed to practice. I think the greatest joy and success in writing probably comes from some melding of both.
Palumbo closes the chapter with this thought (as true now as it was in 2000) -
"Given the shifting winds of fortune that accompany any writer's life, the smart money is on craft, practice, the doing of the thing." (p. 25)
I'm going to work on loving the process and the practice of craft this week.
Anyone have thoughts to share?
I get my ideas from other parts of my life. So it's not like I'm looking "outside" for ideas, they come to me thru my own channels. Best example is how my blog posts are all inspired by the photograph I took first, then later saw the idea in it.
ReplyDeleteMary, this is so great! I love that the first step is incompetence. How true! Fortunately we don't see it as incompetence until we've pushed through that. Then we look back and feel embarrassed by where we were!
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by my blog. I loved how you related the journey to getting bumps and bruises along the way. No pain, no gain! (ouch!)
I love that you take the photograph first and then see the idea in it, Joanne. Something about it must call to you.
ReplyDeleteI get ideas everywhere. The feel of the weather, a particular pewter color to the sky - it's enough to put me in writer mode. The storyteller in me finds ideas in everyday scenes I witness. I find myself wondering What if? or thinking, That would make a great scene.
Thanks for stopping by, Julie. I really enjoyed your blog.
ReplyDeleteYour comment made me think that the incompetent stage is what we so often refer to as that blissful innocence of the beginning writer. Once we recognize the incompetence and begin to learn craft it feels like we're switching from a labor of love to work.
I wonder how many hours I've racked up.