Discovering talent doesn’t necessarily work out quite as you hoped or planned. As an example, I knew from an early age I wanted to be a writer. I could write as soon as I knew the alphabet. I assumed I’d be a novelist, maybe a great one. Visions of bestsellers danced in my head. Before I hit puberty, I had an entire lifestyle planned. I was going to be a famous novelist and never marry. I would have a beautiful modern house on a cliff, maybe in Maine.
I became a very good writer, but not a novelist. I never lived alone, either.
Art has followed a similar pattern. I wanted to do dramatic or at least elegant drawings and portraits, but what I do best are birds, flowers, and my own dogs. I doubt I’ll ever be able to do a real portrait, at least not of a human being. My most powerful drawings are simple. Go figure, right?
There is a moral to this story.
You can’t plan talent. If you discover you have talent — any kind — you can work with it to see how it develops. The best intentions and strongest determination won’t force your abilities into a mold for which they aren’t suited.
Talent is like a foot. You can only wear the shoes if they are the right size. Anything else hurts.