Yesterday, while talking with a new friend I shared my blog with him. After reading through a few of my pieces, he said that I have a talent for writing.
A talent for writing.
These days, I hear this phrase said to me more often.
I remember when I struggled to write something as small as a birthday card greeting in elementary school.
I remember my parents hiring an English tutor for me because my grades were so low.
I remember my senior year of high school English, on the first diagnostic essay I got a 27% and my teacher suggested I drop to the lower level English class.
“Talented” is not an adjective you’d use to describe my writing back then.
I’m anything but talented. Writing is a new found love. One that I’ve put a lot of deliberate effort to improve in.
I feel humbled any time someone calls me a talented writer. It reminds me of how far I’ve come.
Two years ago, I hadn’t written for leisure before. I didn’t know any writers. If you told me that writing would be a passion of mine I wouldn’t believe you.
Eventually, when you get good enough at anything, you’ll be called talented. It doesn’t matter where you start or how bad you were initially. I call this the talent threshold. Once you past the talent threshold, there’s external validation of your competence in the craft. It’s an amazing milestone to achieve, that’s when the hard work pays off.
As humbling of a feeling this is, I’m only getting started…