This is a continuation. To read from the beginning, click here.
Stephen sat up on one of those thick Barnes and Noble tables, and his Sigma Ki brothers gathered around. His store contact offered to fetch him something from Starbucks, which he accepted, and an impromptu Q&A took place. I wasn’t part of this group, but if words of writing wisdom were being dropped, I wasn’t going to miss out. Jonny must have been thinking the same thing, and we soon edged in on the periphery.
One of the perks of being short is that you can finesse things like that.
To be honest, I can’t remember a lot of what he said. I was a little too amped. He talked about how when he started out, he wrote 5 hours a day after work every day for 6 years, and did not sell a thing. I had heard him say this before, and I think this has inspired me more than anything else he’s said. His wife would hold dinner until 10:30 for him. Wow. That’s dedication, and I can’t believe that anyone who is willing to be that committed can but succeed.
And it is a choice. I tell my students all the time that people find the time to do the things they want to do.
And I’ve done it in my own life. When I had it in my mind to play piano professionally (I was a piano performance major at Ball State), I was practicing 5-6 hours a day during the week, on top of my classes, assistantship, and homework. I told myself that other people may have more talent, but they will not outwork me. When I entered competitions, it was always in the back of my head that one of my competitors was out there practicing, right then. That right there motivated me to get my ass to a practice room.
I became very good. Yeah, my priorities changed when I met my wife, and I realized that I didn’t love the piano enough to make it my career, but what the experience taught me was that a person’s ceiling is far higher than they ever suspect, given enough work. People are really bad judges of what they’re capable of. Better just to assume no limits.
I guess that’s why what Stephen was saying resonated so much with me. Because I knew it was true. And if I’m not where I want to be, a large part of it must be that I simply haven’t worked hard enough yet. It’s not going to come to me. I have to go get it, like he did. Plus, unlike Stephen, I’m not fighting dyslexia, so what’s my excuse? Exactly.
After the event, my buddy said that the amount of work he put in after a full day on the job made him feel like a pussy. Ditto, Jonny, ditto.
Gustave Flaubert said that talent is a prolonged patience. Dorothy Parker said the secret to writing is getting your ass in the chair. It’s all true.
About twenty minutes before seven, Jonny suggested that we find a seat. It was a good thing he did, because mentally, I was swimming. As fortune would have it, there were two seats available right in front of the podium. I had a fleeting thought that we should take a pass on them so someone elderly, hard of hearing, or disabled could sit there, but it was only a fleeting thought. The idea of being less than 10 feet away from one of my few living literary heroes made me grab that seat like it was the last one in a game of musical chairs.
I started thinking about the question I would ask.
Next time: Ice Spiders!
For the next installment, click here.
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