It’s something I used to discuss when I was helping coaches get certified. Mastery’s what we expect coaches to have achieved before they gain certification, and our Association spent years establishing the criteria required, based on an amalgam of the common consensus as to what masterful coaches all had in common.

Even though every single certified coach I’ve critiqued has been unique and special in their own way, they all had to tick every single one of those ‘boxes’ with 80% or above in more than one tape to pass the practical exam. What made them special was the way in which they connected with their client to reach that Aha! moment that was the core of every sucessful session, the moment where a shift happened, the sum that was greater than its parts.

That’s why I’m more proud of my coach certification than I am of a lot of my degrees, diplomas and promotions. It was a practical marriage of many elements; hard work, art and craft, training and instinct, experience and the ability to relish humanity and navigate via curiosity. I marvelled at peers who did it all effortlessly, knowing I didn’t have that x-factor or mastery. In my case, a recognition and appreciation of mastery in others, a longing to be good at something I valued, an analytical mind, sound instincts and a massive amount of time, effort and hard work paid off. More importantly, the journey towards mastery was life changing in itself. I feel the same about my writing journey

Thought provoking article. I’m tempted to believe what you’re referring to might not be that complicated to grasp. You even said the word in your comments section: Mastery.

Like Malcolm Gladwell said in his non-fiction title Blink, a master has put in the hours – by living his craft or being in close proximity to it almost every day of his/her life – to stand a head above the competition to attract attention and success.

Another word came to me when you were describing this 7th principle: amalgamation. All 6 combined. Without all 6 together and in equal parts you no longer have the 7th principle. That’s what I got from it.

They should pay attention to a real pro like you.

He has the craft – he can write, he can rhyme words. But there is no art at all in what he writes, and he only gets his work looked at because he harasses people into reading it/listening to it. His work is craft with not a hint of art, and I fear there never will be any art in it because he is tone deaf to the idea of redrafting.

@Sandra – bravo, well said. It’s the same in any avocation, I think, and the more artistic it is the more visible this becomes. Best we can do is the best we can do, to give our innate potential the best chance possible to rise to whatever level, however high, it can go. From there, add a little luck, a little time and a lot more hard work… that’s how it happens.

You can’t always go by awards won or place on the best sellers lists either, as I’ve read some books with those under their belts and wondered how they got there – but then I think I’m back to my comment the other day that some of it does end up a matter of individual taste on the reader’s part.

Either way, I do agree, some writers have that extra something or are able to let that extra something shine through and the ones who do are also (technically) fantastic story tellers.

Sandra

We could ask the same question about any “art.” Doesn’t sculpture and painting and music require us to learn and master the craft of it before we can discover the art of it?

Maybe art is on the receiving end… something moves us, it has form and function and balance and something magical about it… it is a sum that exceeds its parts. It’s beyond reach, perhaps even of the artist, as if something external came into play and joined the artist in the rendering.

But, again perhaps, without the artist even being aware. The artist just pratices craft, they do what they do , they do it the best they can do it… and always, what they do relies on craft and aspires to art.

My guess is that anyone who sweats this too much isn’t sweating their craft enough. There is a fuzzy and/or invisible line between craft and art, and we have little control over it. We can control our craft, we can deepen it, practice it and grow it. As for art… we can only aspire to it. L.

Excellent metaphor.
Which reminds me. Recently, I’ve been reading writers claiming that writing is a craft, not an art.
Any opinion?