Stepping Stones

Alyssa Gu                                                                  Responses by: Kirsten Kaschock,

Dr. Kirsten Kaschock                                                   Kevin Brady, Brennan Busza, Reed Cornish

English 101-006                                                          Julian Mayers, Alex Varsik

26 October 2014

Stepping Stones

Earth’s population growth in the last century has fostered the growth of larger societies. Surrounded by a sea of people, people who have a tendency to create groups or labels and overgeneralize, the individual has become obsessed with making himself known.

As a result of the internet, the world has simultaneously made itself larger and smaller, expanding each user’s reach to a global scale with instantaneous accessibility and exposure. Individuals recognize this phenomenon and find themselves longing to be recognized, to influence, and to be remembered. With so many people in the world, each person finds himself struggling to discover what makes him unique and how to leave a lasting impression on society.

When searching for what offsets him from others, the individual exams what he is passionate about. Often times, he falls back on his natural gifts. Society celebrates and glorifies each other’s visible artistic expression or athletic distinction; the time and effort dedicated to developing these abilities integrate them into his identity. They become labels to be worn proudly—defining attributes. I introduce myself as an artist, but as I pursue my preferred mediums, I find myself in a global competition to make my mark.

Some people look at my drawings as if I magically learned anatomy and color theory overnight. They see “talent” without considering the hours spent over the years to train my artistic eye and hand-eye coordination. Ignorantly, a viewer may ask, “How do you draw so well?” or “How are your lines so clean?” I often answer the second question by providing a video of myself drawing the same line five times over, undoing the stroke before trying again. Each try allows my hand to produce line quality closer to my goal—what I envision. It takes time to produce results.  

Neil Gaiman is plagued with the question “How does one get published?” The answer to that question is simple: “You do it. You write. You finish what you write” (Gaiman). Becoming a recognized and respectable writer is not achieved overnight. If there was a tutorial anyone could follow to churn out a book overnight, artistic mastery would no longer be venerated. It takes time to brainstorm and give an idea a form, sculpting it daily until it finally takes on a recognizable shape, touching it up until it finally becomes a work of art.

As an artist, I have spent my entire life learning to see beauty and reality. Still-lifes, landscapes, figures. I study anatomy, observe the mechanics of machines and infrastructure, follow the form of an apple on the table in efforts to comprehend the physics behind it all so I can accurately translate three-dimensional reality to two-dimensions. I have produced countless doodles in efforts to train my muscles to move as my imagination dictates. Hours upon hours of my life have been dedicated to recreating my own vision and bringing my art to life, constantly striving to improve so that my art is distinguishable and can become another’s inspiration. 

One cannot simply develop a lifetime’s worth of imagination or mechanical coordination overnight. One cannot simply become a master of linguistics without observing the melody and cacophony of speech. One cannot suddenly have an epiphany and be enlightened with the knowledge garnered through years of trial and error without having spent those years tasting, hearing, smelling the words he produces.

The top two rules to Neil Gaiman’s “8 Rules of Writing” are simple: “Write. Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down” (Popova). Writing is simply the art of stringing a set of words together—stringing words into phrase after phrase—and forming a coherent train of thought—or incoherent. One learns what works well and what does not through practice.

“I’m not good enough,” I find myself spitting out sourly. Dissatisfaction and bitterness creep their way into my words, written in my scowl, upon the realization that there are always people better than me. Feeling inadequate is not uncommon; my successes are preceded by failures. I once spent hours drafting Christmas poster designs for Sci-Fi club, creative exhaustion slowly pushing me to experiment with sillier ideas in order to meet my minimum goal of ten drafts. In the end, the jokes I proposed were the most interesting, and I drew R2-D2 as a Christmas ornament. Each draft taught me what works well and what to avoid. I practice. I experiment. Accidents happen. My attempts may be disastrous or they may be inspiring.

Rule number six of Gaiman’s list states to fix the failures but remember “you will have to let it go and move on and start to write the next thing” (Popova). Perfection is impossible, but expertise is a continuous struggle of growth, jumping hurdle after hurdle. “Perfection,” as Gaiman states, “is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving” and expand your horizons.

Write a word. Take a step forward. Then another. Another. Put down words, draw lines. Draw another. Take another step along the road; be willing to step back and change your course of action, but in the end, “Finish what you’re writing,” Gaiman advocates. I have a habit of leaving works in progress sitting, collecting dust, but I always try to finish what has been started, eventually. Even if I loathe a piece, I force myself to salvage what you can, even if it is just the idea. When I try, I give myself an opportunity to stumble upon something great, or simply move on.

Malcolm Gladwell explains in Outliers that it takes roughly ten-thousand hours of practice to become a master. To become a master wordsmith, a writer puts in ten-thousand hours of work. To become a great artist, I will put ten-thousand hours into sketching, painting, observing. Once I have spent ten-thousand hours drawing people, I will be able to draw figures from any angle and any expression without reference with full understanding of how shadows and lights fall on the contours of the body.

I cannot take shortcuts to become a great artist. Results are not, as much as each person wishes for them to be, instantaneous. Results are produced from time well spent. Mastery is a lifelong struggle—always with room for improvement. Greatness comes as the result of ten-thousand hours of labor, one step at a time.

Works Cited

Gaiman, Neil. "Advice to Authors." Neil Gaiman. Harper Collins Publishers, n.d. Web. 30 Sep. 2014.

Popova, Maria. "Neil Gaiman’s 8 Rules of Writing." Brain Pickings. N.p., n.d. Web. 30 Sep. 2014.