About Ilia

Earlier this week, I thought Ilia Malinin came off as a bit of a douchebag, riding the hype like a mylar balloon that thinks it makes the wind blow. Then came the free skate yesterday. When I saw him fall the first time, I made a “GWAH?” sound like the rest of the crowd. The second fall, I defaulted to auntie mode: “Oh...buddy...”

“All that work for nothing,” people kept saying. Because people are sometimes full of crap. The work is for everything. The soaring heights and epic fails.

The work. Is. Everything.

In the role of writing doula, I work with writers at all stages of their careers. Last year, I took on a young writer who was just starting out, rushing in where angels fear to tread. I was frankly stunned when I realized how gifted this writer actually is despite the mediocre technical/craft skills many young writers somehow bring home from college.

In less than ten months, she had achieved major career milestones that typically take years. This writer is extraordinarily talented and gets told that. A lot. If she chooses to stick with it, she stands a good chance of being what we used to call a “literary darling” who matures into a “literary lion.”

When I saw Ilian fall, I thought of this young writer and what it means to be extraordinarily talented in ways that test and then defy conventional wisdom.

I don’t believe in the concept of “overconfidence” or the Lutheran church lady warning about “pride goeth before the fall.” It’s not that. It’s that when you are extraordinarily talented at something, the fails are as spectacular -- and as hotly anticipated -- as the successes. The monkey chorus is just as good at lofting you upward as it is at grinding you down. Hard to say which is more mouth-watering to the spectators or more perilous to the artist.

In that moment, there is only one refuge: the work.

When this gifted writer hit her stride, it wasn’t the gift that impressed me; it was her work ethic. She showed up without fail. She listened. She craved correction and didn’t waste time defending her errors. She earned the craft skills that will serve as a vehicle for her lyrical voice and twisted take on life.

The gift is thrilling to see. She’s written a quadruple Axel of a book. But it’s the work that chiseled out the full manuscript, scored a high-level agent, and got the attention of editors and IP hawks.

And that’s how I know she and Ilia will be okay.

The work is a fortress you can always return to for self-reflection and recovery. From the beginning, you build it, stone by stone. Certainty instead of certitude. Intelligence instead of cleverness. Pride instead of arrogance. You may forget once in a while. You’re young, and the monkey chorus is as old as the detractors and sycophants who showed up to evaluate the cave paintings.

But you’ll be all right. The work you’ve put in will always be there.

When things work out, you’ll have the fortitude to enjoy and build on it. When the universe says not yet, you’ll have the solid core to carry on.

May the Four be with you.

peace and grooviness ~

jr