While I was at college, I had the opportunity to share studio space with a breathtakingly talented illustrator named David Linn. To this day, he’s one of the most talented artists I’ve ever seen. David was getting awards from the National Society of Illustrators before he even graduated.
David was the closest thing to an rock star we had. Girls used to come up to the studio just to watch him paint. Seriously. And most of them would say some variation of the same thing as they left. Something like this:
I wish I had talent.
David’s response was almost zen-like in its truth and simplicity. David would usually say something like:
It’s nothing a million hours of practice wouldn’t do for anyone.
Most people would laugh as they left. Once in a while, someone would challenge him on it.
C’mon. A million hours?
David would then recite a litany any artist, writer, musician, or athlete would recognize instantly. He’d speak of spending his days painting when others were off riding bikes or playing basketball. Of sketching in class, in church, in front of the television. Of spending his summers painting rather than surfing. Of what it really means to be an artist. He’d sum up with:
So, by my estimation, I should pass a million hours sometime next summer. If I’m not good after a million hours, I probably ought to quit and do something else, don’t you think?
The older I get, the more I’m convinced David was right. Real talent comes from from persistence. It goes way beyond some natural ability to a soul-deep desire to do something all the time, and to do it better every time than the time before.
If you have something you love doing — something creative — do it. Every day. Write. Draw. Cook. Play your guitar. Run. Play hockey. Whatever your thing is, push yourself. Be better today than you were yesterday. Because that’s where talent comes from.
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