To give our readers a better sense of us as people, we
begin a series of posts on our cherished values. We want you to know what matters most to each
of us. ROB starts with his ideas about CRAFT.
A few months ago, we looked back at our legal careers, asking
what we would do differently, knowing what we know now. I wrote of my regrets about not having done
more to develop my trial lawyer abilities. I’ve come to see development of a craft –
learning to do something really well -- as essential to human fulfillment. It means doing something with real skill. In my sunset years, I happen to have found
something – writing -- for which I have great passion for learning to do
well. I’ve thought a lot about how to accomplish
that. So, what does it take to develop a
craft?
Read. Study.
Before I started my
legal studies, I asked a lot of lawyers for
advice about succeeding in law
school. Some of what I got was useful,
some wasn’t worth the dinners and drinks I bought for those telling me to do
this or that. One helpful piece of
advice I received came from a friend named Booker Morris, then a Texas
Assistant Attorney General. He said
simply, “Read. Study.” There was more to
law school than that, of course, but following his admonition laid a great
foundation. I see no reason that rule
doesn’t apply in most endeavors.
So, as I work at being a writer, I inhale novels, memoirs,
and non-fiction works that provide background for what I’m writing about. Want to write a novel about a female Navy
pilot? Read the memoirs of the first women
fighter pilots. Want to write about a
political career in a state where you’ve never lived? Go on Amazon
and buy books about the political history of that state.
The reading and studying also must include the “how to” of the
craft. Browse Barnes & Noble or other
bookstores and find works that teach writing, accounting, being a computer
geek, etc. In my present effort, each
quarter I try to read at least one book on how to write.
Seek and Accept Mentoring
Some people learn by
doing, some learn from mentoring by others. Woodson, for example, recently related to
Henry and me his experience as a teenager of learning welding from a
master welder
through watching the man work and talking endlessly with him about how to
improve. In my life, I’ve had great
mentors in each of the two things I put the most effort into learning. Two wise and talented lawyers, Ed Clover and
John Hill, both now deceased, taught me the practice of law. What I didn’t learn is my fault, not theirs.
As I transition into a writing career, I’m being nurtured by
a talented writing group in my church and by my novelist daughter. She writes under the name Bianca Sloane and I
know her now as “Coach Sloane” (check her out at www. Bianca Sloane.com). Her sculpting of me as a writer brings home
the importance of apprenticeship in learning a craft. We all need someone to teach the rules of the
road, help us avoid potholes, and understand when to slow to a crawl and when
to rev it up and let ‘er rip. Everyone
needs a Coach Sloane and I’m incredibly fortunate to have mine.
The 10,000 Hour Rule
Regardless of reading and studying and regardless of mentoring,
in the final analysis, success depends most on doing the craft. I’m a great believer in Malcom Gladwell’s
10,000 hour rule -- the suggestion advanced in his bestselling book Outliers: The Story of
Success – that doing anything really well requires doing that thing for
at least 10,000 hours. I realize the
number might be 8,000 and it might be 22,000.
The point Gladwell makes so well is that learning a craft requires
repetition – doing something over and over again until you get it right. Since I keep up with the time I put into
writing, I know I don’t have my 10,000 hours in yet. But, I’m working on it on a daily basis and
I’ll get there.
I also have my own corollary to the 10,000 hour rule. Developing a craft resembles playing a sport
at a high level. Great coaches – football’s
Nick Saban, basketball’s late, great Pat Summitt, golf’s Butch Harmon – I think
would all say that if you don’t enjoy the grind of practice, the odds are
you’ll never be very good, let alone great, at your game. In the writing context, if you don’t enjoy
the grind of reading, drafting, and editing, then reading, re-drafting, and
editing some more, you really ought to find something else to do.
As I work daily at my new craft, I say to young
people, old
people, and people in between, “Figure out what you want to do
really well and work at doing that, remembering the old adage that success is a
journey, not a destination.” One day, you might get to say to yourself, “Well
done.” Then, start again on getting better. This is who I am. This is my formula for a fulfilling
life.