When the Russian figure skater, Yevgeny Plushenko, said that you can’t be a skating champion if you don’t have the quad, he reminded me so much of the people who say that you can’t write (fill in the genre) because you’re not (fill in the blank). Writing, like figure skating is a subjective sport, and the people who say this are trying to make it into a timed event.
It’s easy in a timed event, say long track speed skating, to figure out who wins. The person who skates around the oval the fastest does, and the clock doesn’t lie. There isn’t any subjectivity to it. The time is either there, or it isn’t.
Really, you could extrapolate my first statement to be anyone who puts any sort of qualifiers on writing. For example, to the person who replied to a very nice personalized rejection letter with a two page manifesto on how I was killing creativity and asking for conformity. I am not asking everyone to wear a similar outfit (except the color may vary) and skate around the same oval in exactly the same fashion (or as close to it as possible) so that the fastest person wins. No, I’m asking for the beauty and artistry of a long program combined with the endurance that it takes to skate such a program. You can choose your costume, your music, even your moves, though I’d like to see some things (like good active writing, proper grammar, etc.). Which is what the judges say when they establish points for various elements. And the person with the most points receives the contract, the good review, and the career.
In the end, whether it’s on the ice or on the computer screen, it’s not a timed event with it’s inherent conformity that we want to see. It’s grace and talent, and something that compells us to watch again and again. That’s what writing is about.
So don’t make judgements about who should write what. Don’t hurl accusations or cry foul unless you have a solid basis to do so. Because Evan Lysacek crafted an exquisite long program that reminded us what skating truly is. An art form of grace and beauty that can never be judged as if one were watching a timed event. It’s the entire performance, the entire package that counts. That’s the same thing that happens in writing. It’s the whole story, the execution, the form, the creativity, and the discipline that make it work. And that, my friends, means that it is going to be subjective.
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