I have a confession to make: my muse for this post is the 2007 Disney Pixar film, Ratatouille, which I recently rewatched whilst babysitting. Inspiration can come from anywhere, right?
There’s a particular scene in the movie that struck me as interesting (though all of it is thoroughly entertaining). Main character Remy, a rat, has traveled to Paris and is looking in the window of a restaurant founded by his hero, chef Auguste Gusteau. Remy, despite being a (cute and lovable) rodent, dreams of being in a chef, a rather rodent-phobic profession as it turns out. When staring into the restaurant, Remy starts to speak with the Gusteau inside his head who’s been giving him advice along his journey. Gusteau sees a young man walk over to the boiling pot of soup, and asks Remy who he is.
“Oh him?” Remy says. “He’s nobody,”
“Not nobody,” Gusteau says. “He’s part of the kitchen.”
“He’s a plongeur or something,” Remy says. “He washes dishes or takes out the garbage or something. He doesn’t cook.”
“But he could,” Gusteau prods.
“Uh… no” Remy shuts him down.
“How do you know?” Gusteau says. “What do I always say? Anyone can cook.”
This scene stuck with me even after the credits rolled. If anyone can cook, I would go as far as to say anyone can write. This is a bold statement with which many will disagree, but hear me out. I refuse to believe that writers are simply born, that those who are destined to write great novels and scripts are ordained by God himself. Yes, perhaps some are born with a knack for stringing words together, but the truth is as simple as this: Writing is a learned skill. Just like cooking or painting or playing piano. Some may be naturally talented, but that doesn’t mean they are naturally skilled. Because they had to learn it at some point. They had to work hard and put in tons of hours and perfect their skill.
So yes, anyone can write. But it takes work. It takes hours spent at your kitchen table, forcing yourself to put down words when you don’t feel like it. It takes getting feedback and listening to critics. It takes lots and lots of editing and rewriting. It takes voracious reading of the greats, past and present.
The greats didn’t get to the top by divine intervention. They were famous because they spent months if not years on their manuscripts, and they spent years if not decades honing their skill. Even if you don’t believe you’re talented, don’t give up on writing if you truly love it. You’re not nobody; you’re part of the kitchen, and anyone can cook.
Also during the film, Gusteau says: “Brave cooking is not for the faint of heart. You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul. What I say is true: Anyone can cook, but only the fearless can be great.”
Likewise, brave writing isn’t for the faint of heart. You’re putting pieces of yourself out there for the world to rave about or rip to shreds, and that’s no easy task. However, I agree that your only limit is your soul. Be fearless, work passionately, and keep on writing.
