History Buff

When I was in tenth grade, I damned near flunked a World History class. Might sound strange to someone who has anything more than a nodding acquaintance with me, as I’m a pretty serious history buff. But yes, I did get a D for the year in World History in the tenth grade.

The teacher told my mother that she thought I had problems reading, and that was why I was doing so poorly. Mom laughed at her, and I don’t think the teacher ever did figure out that the reason I was doing poorly was that I didn’t want to do what I considered busywork, not because I did not know the material. (I ignored the teacher in class and just read the textbook, which was interesting)

Towards the end of the year, when we were to sign up for classes, I noticed that there was an Advanced Placement American History class available. You had to apply, you had to have an interview, and you had to provide a writing sample.

I applied, pretty sure I wasn’t going to get it, as my World History teacher was going to tell the committee that I was an unmotivated moron. But, hey. I really am a history buff, and I wanted to try and see if I could get into the class anyway.

I don’t remember all of the questions on the application, but I do remember being asked to estimate how many books I’d read in the last three months (~100. I read a lot fewer books a week than I did then) and to list some of titles. I forget all of the titles I put down, but Shogun and Gone with the Wind were on the list alongside I,Robot, Dune, and a fictional biography of Anne Bonny called Sea Star. I did not list the Johanna Lindsay romances. I felt like they wouldn’t help. Though looking back, I suppose it would have been blisteringly obvious that anyone reading over a book a day probably isn’t only reading Great Literature.

The writing sample? No, I didn’t write an essay. I felt like I should have, but there was this ghost story I’d read about the Tower of London and the ghost of headless queen. I decided to write the only historical fiction I’ve ever written to date and did this short story of Anne Boleyn’s last night in the Tower.

Now, Tudor history was something that was not taught in Stafford County history classes at the time. We went straight from Columbus to Sir Walter Raleigh. So, this was clearly something I’d learned about on my own, and was interested enough in to use as a writing subject to try to get into the class.

Yes, I did get in. I think it was less on the reading claims (which I suspect were not entirely believed) and more on that short story. As much as I’d cringe at my sixteen year old self’s writing, ya know, I wish I still had a copy of that story!

You're so talented

I wince whenever someone says, “You’re so talented!” to me.  I feel like a jerk a milisecond later, of course, because I’ve only heard it whenever someone was intending to give me a compliment, and to be kind.

Even so, when it is said to me, I still wince.

To me, talent means an innate ability to do something.  When I get that as a compliment for something for which I have no innate ability, I feel like it shows a kind of lazy cultural attitude.

Sewing is a great example of this. Do I sew well?  While not a professional, I can make garments for myself that live up to my own criteria for a good garment.  So yes, by any objective standard, I can do a good job of it.

Lemme tell you what, though.  I am not naturally neat-handed.  I was never one of those girls who turned in the report with the beautiful round handwriting and the decorative report cover.  My pies do not have professional-looking crusts, and when we cut out the oilcloth to make sit-upons in Girl Scouts, my squares really weren’t… Square, I mean.  And the edges were all ragged. I’ve never been able to keep my hands steady enough to decorate a cake well.

I had to overcome this to be able to sew, and it took a long time.  This is a skill, after all, that I’ve been practicing for twenty years. 

Which brings me to the lazy cultural attitude.  The reality is that no-one, and I mean no-one, gets good at something without endless practice.   The activity may be fun enough that the practice isn’t particularly tedious, but the practice still happens.  Anyone who knows me even a little would say I am talented with words.  Okay, granted.  I do love to write, but the reality is that I if I have any skill at all as a writer it is because I write, quite literally, thousands of words a day.  I went through a period in my life recently where I did not, and I can tell a significant difference.   I’m still working to get back up to speed on that!

Yet,  we have this idea that people who are good at things are naturally good at it.  Me?  I’m beginning to get the idea that we become skilled at whatever we work on constantly.  So, to me, I think it may be less about talent and a lot more about what we really love to work on.