I have always believed in ending things well. Recently, I shared with you why I decided to end my conference. Now, I want to share with you more about it.
People often ask me how I work and I refuse to answer the question because it has absolutely no value at all. Almost every morning after dropping off my kid at school, I go to the same coffee shop, sit at the same table, drink the same cup of coffee, and write. It’s the same ritual, every day.
Do you remember when you started it, this thing you now call your craft? Do you remember when you did it because you loved it, because you couldn’t stop doing it? I don’t. But I’d like to remember. I’d love to go back to being an amateur, if I still can.
Is your work timely or timeless? That is, is it something that is relevant to your current place in history, or does it transcend the limitations of its context? You may be thinking that the goal of every artist is to do work that lasts, but this is a myth.
It’s one thing to call yourself a writer; it’s quite another to actually write. So what separates the pros from the amateurs? Is it God-given talent? Natural skill? Or something else?
Of course, we all have gifts that we’ve been given. This is grace, the fact that we have things we are good at — and don’t deserve them. But what we do with those gifts is what separates the outliers from the rest of the pack.