Wulf Moon's SUPER SECRETS:
Latent Talent vs. Acquired Skill:  Which is Better?

By Wulf Moon

"I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once,

but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times."


—Bruce Lee, martial arts expert, film star

In the online writing dojo where I coach —Wulf Pack Writers— the question came up about which is more important: talent, or practice? Opinions are like noses— everyone has one, and that’s certainly true among passionate writers! Some strongly asserted talent is meaningless, that the only thing that matters to become a master of one’s craft is diligent practice. Others argued the importance of talent and how talented writers create stunning writing that stands out from the crowd, launching careers and winning awards. And I added my thoughts to the discussion as well. You’ll discover it in this article— it’s why we’re here.

Talent vs. practice. It’s a passionate subject for many writers, and the answer is an important one. I believe the answer will determine whether or not our writing will stand out and build a sustainable career. It’s definitely worth dipping our toe into these turbulent waters…so long as we don’t get sucked into the theoretical whirlpool.

I promise I’ll throw you a life preserver if necessary. Ready to jump in?

Latent Talent

Child prodigies. We know the term. This is a child that not only displays aptitude for a skill or art form, they accelerate so rapidly in the application of that skill that they become masters at an early age. It’s as if they were born maestros and merely had to unbox the latent talent within them and it opened up ready-made like a pop-up book.

Perhaps the most famous child prodigy —one with paramount skills as a Classical composer— was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Who can argue that he was born with innate talent? His sister reported: “He often spent much time at the clavier …. In the fourth year of his age his father, for a game as it were, began to teach him a few minuets and pieces at the clavier. ... He could play it faultlessly and with the greatest delicacy, and keeping exactly in time. ... At the age of five, he was already composing little pieces, which he played to his father who wrote them down.” — Mozart: A Documentary Biography

How about Stevland Hardaway Morris, ever heard of this prodigy? No? I’ll bet you have heard of Stevie Wonder. This blind musician sang in the choir at Whitestone Baptist Church and became a soloist at age eight. He signed with a Motown label at age eleven, and at age thirteen his single “Fingertips” was a No. 1 hit on Billboard’s Hot 100. He is the youngest solo artist ever to top the chart. Today, Stevie Wonder has sold over 100 million records worldwide, has won 25 Grammy Awards (the most by a male solo artist), and has won an Academy Award for Best Original Song. He has also been inducted into the Rhythm and Blues Music Hall of Fame, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and the Songwriters Hall of Fame. Oh, and in case that’s not enough, throw in a Presidential Medal of Freedom while you’re at it. Stevie Wonder is the stuff of legends, a modern Mozart that pioneered contemporary R&B.

However, the verdict is still out on how many of these child prodigies are the result of Nurture vs. Nature. Some chess grandmasters were trained by their dedicated fathers at an early age, and while the plasticity of a child’s brain can be argued as being more malleable to specialized training, studies still show such children are born with inherited differences in the utilization of their brain’s functions as compared to other children, including having higher IQs. In other words, they were born with enriched uranium, making it easier to develop these children into atomic marvels.

As much as the subject likes to be argued, it is evident that our genetics come with a variety of skill propensities, and some are born with specialized skills that are off the charts compared to the general population. And that’s a good thing. Each of us is gifted in things others are not. Diversity in skills, interests, and even unique specialties make our society work, make the world go round, and create miraculous variety to enjoy in any field, including fiction writing.

While it’s not 100% true, the vast majority of writers I’ve talked with and read about tell similar tales of their youth— avid readers and a propensity for writing stories and often poetry at an early age. These future writers were obviously born with the storytelling gene and found ways to express it, many with no mentors to guide them early on. They loved words, they loved stories, and their young minds were filled with imaginative tales bursting within them to be shared, guided by adults or not.

Writing finds a way. Because for writers, it’s in our nature.

But can such talent be taught? Can it be learned? Can we become maestros or masters of a skill or craft if we don’t feel we were born a gifted child? And if we don’t see ourselves as exceedingly gifted, is all hope lost?

Acquired Skill

Bruce Lee became a legend in the martial arts, developing his own expression of mixed martial arts known as Jeet Kune Do. As a young child, Lee fell prey to cholera and almost died. Weak and frail, he even stumbled while walking when he was four years old, about as far as you can imagine from the future “Man With the Golden Singing Legs.” As he grew older, Lee still did not appear to have the frame of a kung fu fighter, being described by some that knew him as frail. Watch the climax in The Way of the Dragon and you’ll easily see the difference between martial arts champion Chuck Norris’ frame and that of Bruce Lee. Norris seems like a giant compared to Lee.

But what Bruce Lee lacked in physique he made up for in focused dedication and furious practice. The friend he trained with as a youth, William Cheung, said this about Lee:  “I thought he was just learning kung fu because everybody was doing it. I still didn’t take Bruce very seriously. Then, shortly after we moved the school to a bigger facility in Kowloon, we started hearing complaints about Bruce beating up his seniors, as well as other people who were training with him. They became very upset because he was progressing so fast. He practiced every minute of the day. Even while talking, he was always doing some kind of arm or leg movement. That’s when I realized that Bruce was actually serious about Wing Chun [a form of Kung Fu].”—“Bruce Lee and William Cheung—The Early Years,” www.cheungsmartialarts.com

While some have asserted Bruce Lee did not have the anatomy necessary to become a martial arts legend, Lee made up for his apparent lack by developing his speed, power, agility, and reflexes. Hayward Nishioka, the 1968 Pan-American judo gold medalist, said: “He was the quickest person I've ever seen.”— “Tales of the Dragon,” Independent, December 5, 1999.

So, how did Bruce Lee achieve his dream of becoming an internationally famous martial artist with both health (Lee died at age 32) and anatomy fighting against him?

Bruce Lee’s mindset. He did not restrict himself to the limitations placed on him by his own body, nor by his instructors. Bruce Lee famously said: “To hell with circumstances. I create opportunities.”—www.brucelee.com

There is no end of websites and books and exercise regimens dedicated to Bruce Lee’s workouts. You can study online actual photos of his gym card routines, training notes, and journals. There is abundant evidence and eyewitness accounts that Bruce Lee trained 24/7 with intelligent focus on strengthening the muscles necessary to master his skills with unequaled speed and accuracy. Bruce Lee lived the life he preached, qualifying him to make his most famous statement: "I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times."

Practice makes perfect. But smart, focused practice over an extended period of time? Developing both mind and muscle routines? That level of intense practice makes most anyone lethal, irrespective of how much latent talent one might have been born with.

Ray Bradbury, my favorite short story writer, knew this truth and shared it with others. I’ve heard it quoted many times. “The best hygiene for beginning writers or intermediate writers is to write a hell of a lot of short stories,” he said. “If you can write one short story a week— it doesn’t matter what the quality is to start, but at least you’re practicing, and at the end of the year you have 52 short stories, and I defy you to write 52 bad ones. Can’t be done. At the end of 30 weeks or 40 weeks or at the end of the year, all of a sudden a story will come that’s just wonderful.” —“Ray Bradbury’s Greatest Writing Advice,” Literary Hub, August 22, 2018

Excellent writing advice. But as long as we’re discussing the subject, why limit ourselves to binary thinking? Why does an exceptional writer have to be made one way or the other? What if someone combines both? I told you I’d throw you a life preserver.

Here it comes.

The Killer Combo

The cool thing I’ve discovered about writers is what I’ve already told you —almost all writers I’ve met have the same origin story with the need to tell tales about as soon as they could pick up a crayon. Well, maybe not that early for everyone, but pretty darn close. It’s such a common thread that it’s obvious to me writers are born writers—they have the writer gene and that popup book is just waiting to be discovered within them and opened.

True, some discover and open that book faster than others, but it’s also true some have had superior help in their developmental plasticity stage, just like Mozart having the added bonus of an expert music teacher as a father. That’s a major coup in developing one’s talent, and it’s how Mozart got those first early gigs before kings and queens as well. Look at masters like Tiger Woods and Venus and Serena Williams, and you’ll find similar advantages.

Psychological studies also bear out the combo power of latent genetic talent combined with fierce focus on acquiring a skill through smart practice. And the younger it’s recognized and developed, the better the results. In an article in Scientific American (“What Makes a Prodigy,” September 2, 2019), developmental psychologist Ellen Winner notes an unusual commitment prodigies dedicate to their domain, which she dubs as a “rage to master.” The article states that Winner believes such heightened skill and productivity is a convergence of genetically influenced aptitude, interest, and drive that predisposes a person to obsessively engage in some activity.

I close with some free advice (although it wasn’t free for me, it cost me $16.99) from The Wee Free Men by my favorite humorist, Terry Pratchett. In this scene (pp. 35-36), the teacher/witch Miss Tick passes a few words of wisdom on to young Tiffany Aching before parting.

“Well, I must go. I hope we shall meet again. I will give you some free advice, though.”

“Will it cost me anything?”

“What? I just said it was free!” said Miss Tick.

“Yes, but my father said that free advice often turns out to be expensive,” said Tiffany.

Miss Tick sniffed. “You could say this advice is priceless,” she said. “Are you listening?”

“Yes,” said Tiffany.

“Good. Now…if you trust in yourself…”

“Yes?”

“…and believe in your dreams…”

“Yes?”

“…and follow your star…” Miss Tick went on.

“Yes?”

“…you’ll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren’t so lazy. Good-bye.”

Believe in your genes. Acquire knowledge. Do the skilled practice. Have a rage to master…but don’t forget to have fun while giving it your best!

At DreamForge, we’re happy to share the news that Wulf Moon’s Super Secrets book on writing “How to Write a Howling Good Story” recently made the top 10 on the Amazon Best Sellers in Fiction Writing Reference. Congratulations, Wulf!  And now, you can enjoy Wulf Moon’s latest inspirational article in DreamForge Anvil.