On the Myth that Writing Comes Naturally

I used to think that writing came naturally to me. When I was in high school I won all sorts of awards for my writing. When I became an adult, those awards didn’t stop coming, they just moved to the journalism sector. I was good at what I did. I didn’t really have to work at it.

False.

While it might be true that some people come equipped with better skills — like editing and grasp of language and vocabulary and spelling — the truth is this:

Our writing talent is directly related to how hard we work at it.

When I was in journalism school, in order for any journalist to progress into the senior classes required for a degree, we all had to pass this test called the GSP. GSP was an acronym for Grammar, Spelling and Punctuation. Everybody in my journalism classes talked about this test like it was something to be feared. I feared it, too. If you didn’t pass this test, you could pay to take it two more times. If you didn’t pass it those other two times, you would have to find another degree.

I made myself sick the night before this test. It wasn’t really a test I could study for — mostly because I didn’t really know how to study for grammar and spelling and punctuation. It was too overwhelming. There were too many variables. So I didn’t study. I went in and took my test and cried (I waited until I’d turned the test in), because I thought I’d bombed it.

A few days later, I got a call from my advisor, who told me he needed to see me. I thought for sure I’d failed the test and would have to try again. But when I got to my advisor’s office, he had a huge, goofy smile on his face. He told me I’d only missed one question on the test — how to spell broccoli, which had always been a problem for me. It was the highest grade they’d seen on the GSP.

I took this to mean that I must have some innate talent. For the rest of that year, I sailed through all my writing intensive classes. I was a talented writer. I didn’t have to work as hard as all the others. I only had to put in minimal effort, and the red carpet of success would unfold itself for me.

Now that I’m older and, I’ll just go ahead and say it, less cocky, I know that it was not innate talent I had. Sure, maybe I have the ability to read words and know what they meant and call them up in mind-pictures when I needed to spell them correctly. But the foundation for that ability was the stories that I read as a child.

I was always reading stories. I studied words, without even knowing I was studying them. I was never without a book, anywhere. When you have a background like that, of course you’re going to be good at spelling and grammar and punctuation and the mechanics of writing, because these are the intuitive things you pick up from books.

My 7-year-old is not a great speller. My solution for that? He needs to read more. He reads a lot. But he will learn how to spell by reading words on a page.

I tell you all of this to say that we can often get in this place as writers where we believe that there is a finite amount of natural talent available to us — we either have it or we don’t. It’s not true. Some of us might have to work harder than others at things like spelling and grammar, but every writer grows her writing talent in proportion to how hard she works at it. Every writer can become talented — brilliant, even — if he is willing to work really hard at it.

I work really hard at writing. Every month, I read at least two writing craft books. I read at least six novels, three of those usually award winners, because I want to learn how to write like that. At the end of every year, I’ve read at least 120 books. At the end of every year, I’ve written millions of words, because I show up every day, no matter what I feel like or which kid ticked me off this morning or whether or not there’s a coherent thought in my head. I do the work, all the way around.

We cannot simply ride on our talent. We have to do the work. We have to study. We have to know ourselves and then grow ourselves.

Talent plus work equals brilliance in the writing world.

Continuing education matters — and I’m not talking about higher degrees. I have a bachelor’s degree. It’s probably all I’ll ever have, because I have a husband and six kids and a writing career I love. But I put myself through a rigorous school of my own. And that is what, in the end, will ensure that I become the best writer I can possibly be. I have not arrived. I actually never will. But the trying is what mattered in the first place.

We can all do the same.

How to Continue Your Writing Education:

1. Read.

Read voraciously. Read widely. Read intentionally. When you think about higher education–particularly college–you think about texts. Or at least I do. What kind of texts would I need to read and study get the equivalent of an MFA in young adult science fiction? What about middle grade fantasy? What about adult literary?

How do you study the books you read? You mark passages, you fold pages, you take notes, even if it’s a novel. You take note of the passages or features you like. You try to figure out what it is that draws you in and keeps you reading.

My best advice to writers when it comes to reading is this: Read one poem a day, one short story a day, one essay a day, and one section of a novel a day. I know it’s a lot. But how good do you want to be?

2. Write.

Part of honing talent is practicing. And part of practicing is having a designated time, every day (I do five days a week and leave the weekends open for inspiration) when you will work on your writing. Write essays or poetry or stories. Write all of them. Make it a regular part of you day, just like any other practice. And be relentless about keeping your writing appointment.

3. Study resources.

There are so many writing resources out there. I’ve read close to 100 writing craft books to date–and continue my education with at least two every month. I take what I want from each book and, once finished, pick up another. But don’t just read writing books. Read business books and creativity books and books that will help you polish and target your writing so your audience will hear you.

Just don’t ever stop learning.

When we stop learning, we stop growing and improving.

Rachel is the author of the kid-lit fantasy series, Fairendale; the poetry book, This is How You Know; and the Crash Test Parents humor series. She writes about writing on her blog This Writer Life, contributes regularly to Huff Post and faithfully writes 5,000 words of fiction and nonfiction every day.