Letters from a Young Writer, Part 2
do u think u can help me with my writing?
She made it sound so easy. I don’t think she understood what she asked.
I remember a story about a pianist, supposedly Vladimir Horowitz but probably apocryphal. After a concert, it’s said that a woman came up to speak with him, amazed by how well he played. “I’d give twenty years of my life to play like that!” she gushed.
Horowitz looked pleased. “Ma’am, that’s exactly what it takes!”
I wanted to tell her this story, because I think that was my biggest reservation. I don’t believe in “writing talent”. Writing is a matter of discipline and precious little else; writers who “naturally” do good work have internalized it, turned craft into instinct. It takes years – decades in most cases – to make a compelling writer from scratch. She told me later that she was thirteen. That puts her in eighth grade, maybe even high school, and still unable (or unwilling, perhaps) to spell out “you” or use any capital letters.
I’m not a miracle worker. I’m not extraordinary. I’m just a public-school brat with a good work ethic and a few good teachers; I started public school in kindergarten and stayed in public schools (minus a summer) until the day I walked off the stage with my bachelor’s degree. Teach For America turned down my application. In eight years or more, she couldn’t find the motivation to learn basic sentence structure; what made her think I could give it to her in my spare time?
Still, I wrote back, trying to nudge her in the right direction.
Do you really want the help I have to offer? I’m an infamously unforgiving tutor, as I believe that writing is an even more unforgiving master.
There are probably better ways to ask that question, if you really mean it.-Adrian
A few hours later, my email alarm went off again.
my question is do u think in the futur u could help me with my own writing?
*headdesk*