The heartbreak of talent

If you are inclined to be cruel, try this social experiment. Tell an individual who can draw, sing or do anything else well that she is supremely (if not divinely) talented. Tell her often —even trot out the word genius—and then watch what happens.

In short order, she will stop working at her craft and begin to coast. She will thank her god for her special calling and she will wait for all manner of success to be dropped into her lap. In no time, this individual who showed promise with her exceptional ability will re-join her peers to languish in a sea of mediocrity.

What we commonly refer to as talent is the ability that some people have to do something well faster than the time it takes for the rest of us to do it. Think of it as an aptitude on steroids. An exceptional golfer? He didn’t even take lessons. A fantastic painter? She observes details that many of us do not see. An incredible musician? He can play a melody after hearing it just once.

That this ability exists and that it allows some individuals to progress with less effort is undeniable, but it is a pitfall for anyone who wants to achieve enduring excellence of any kind.

The moment your peers anoint you as talented is the moment that a certain tension is released and your work begins to suffer. Your peers reinforce the illusion that you are guaranteed sure, incremental progress without hardship. You wallow in the glow of their instant approval. You begin to sit back and enjoy your limited success.

Eventually, the light of reason seeps in and you realize you have been lied to. There is the gnawing impression that individuals with half your talent but twice your effort will soon surpass you. Their hard work and subsequent results are sure to embarrass you and, suddenly and inexplicably, you entertain the idea of giving up. Talent has broken your heart.

What is unique about anyone’s achievement is not talent, it is skill. Skill is earned through hard work and through what could only be called a stubborn patience. All of us can attain a specified skill, but few of us accept the time and sacrifice involved.

People who praise others for their talent also reinforce the misconception that talent is rare.

Talent as it turns out, is not rare at all. Every one of us can do something in less time than it takes someone else to do it. But what of a Mozart or a Beethoven? Did they not possess a talent that is rarest of the rare?

No. Young musical prodigies pop up around the planet in surprising regularity. Few of them continue as adult prodigies, however, because the path to attaining superior skills is long and treacherous. Throughout human history, in every field and at predictable intervals, “crops of prodigies” emerge and disappear in predictable fashion.

If you praise someone’s exceptional skill you recognize what is truly unique. You are praising an exceptional effort, exceptional determination, exceptional discipline, exceptional dedication and exceptional results. Through an unflinching commitment to his craft, the individual has arrived at a rare, unprecedented mastery.

Therefore, do not insult a master by praising his talent.* To do so is to invalidate the thousands of hours he has allocated to his craft. You will deny his many sacrifices along his complicated journey—perhaps even his humanness— by suggesting that his rare ability comes from the blessing of providence or mere chance.

Like the adult who leaves his childhood far behind, the master invariably abandons his talent in favour of pursuing a different road. This is the road of sacrifice and painstaking work —the road required to achieve uncommon excellence.

*I highly recommend reading Seth Godin’s The Practice; Shipping Creative Work on this topic.