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Vol 1 | Issue 27 | ISSN 2979-8744 (online)

We're always aware of people who are excelling in their field: Sally Wainwright, Sarah Phelps, Jack Thorne, Christopher Nolan, Steven Knight, etc., etc., and how much talent they exude.

When I was at Edinburgh, there was some discussion among a few individuals about whether the writers they were engaging with had the talent to become successful writers.

I think we tend to look at talent as something that's quite binary. We either have it or we don't. If we have it, we're good at what we do. If we don't, we're just mediocre.

I would argue that talent is an amalgamation of a lot of different things, so let's have a look at what those might be.

I think it's inescapable, when you look at these big hitters, to recognise that their passion for their craft runs deep. They live and breathe it, and they have for a long time.

Now, if you're in your 40s or 50s (or older) and you've only just started thinking about screenwriting or trying to break into the industry, you might be thinking, "Eh, sod it. That's me out, then. I've been raising kids for 25 years, and I didn't even know screenwriting was a career possibility when I left school. I thought that was just for white men who lived in London."

I think that just tells you you're at the beginning. If your passion is there and it's growing, it will keep growing.

Hayley McKenzie told me once in a mentoring session that we should be spending at least 15 hours a week on our writing. And that could take lots of different forms, beyond actually sitting down and writing scripts. It could be:

I think that comes back to passion. If you're passionate about something, you'll naturally be drawn towards those things. You'll want to understand more, explore more and learn more.

A few years ago, I went to London to see an exhibition of Tim Burton's work at the Design Museum. It was one of the most fascinating explorations of someone's creativity I've ever seen. When you look at someone like Tim Burton, he's an artist first, really. His passion started when he was incredibly young, and he just didn't stop. Every day was made up of drawing these fantastic ideas, which eventually became the characters and worlds we know and love today.

Even when he's out at a restaurant, he's doodling on the paper napkins. His brain and his hands just want to create these fantastic characters and scenes. It's nonstop.

I've watched interviews with Sarah Phelps where she's discussed her process of characterisation, and the depth of her understanding of those characters is extraordinary. It's almost like listening to someone talk about an old friend.

I think there's something fascinating about that level of immersion in a creative world. The research, the curiosity, the obsession with understanding every element of it. And perhaps obsession is one of the cornerstones of what makes up talent.

This seems fairly obvious, but I think another important element is making yourself as open to constructive advice as possible; being willing to take on feedback and develop your work.

I've met writers who are incredibly defensive about their work. They might be able to talk the talk in a casual conversation, but put them in a collaborative setting and they close up, becoming resistant to feedback. They want to retain creative control, sometimes to the point where it strangles their project.

Being adaptable and open to change is essential, I think. And that requires a few things. Humility, for one. The willingness to appreciate that your own work isn't perfect. I am certainly guilty of falling into that trap myself from time to time. But I think there's something incredibly important about recognising that other people might be able to see things in your work that you can't.

And being prepared to listen.

Here's often the hardest pill to swallow.

Time is frequently not on our side, especially if we're coming to this a little later in life. It's also something that's quite difficult to harvest when you've got a life ticking away in the background, with its own set of demands and constraints.

There's a popular theory that to master something, you need to give it 10,000 hours. Which turns out to be quite a lot. If you were to give screenwriting eight hours a day, five days a week, every working day, it would still take you around five years to accumulate those hours. So accruing 10,000 hours is actually very difficult to do.

It takes time.

And I think this loops right back into passion. If you really do live and breathe something, then you're engaging with it in some capacity throughout your life.

You might be listening to a screenwriting podcast, reading scripts, watching television programmes, setting time aside to go to the cinema and see the latest releases, or keeping up with professional development in your craft.

Then there's finding the time to sit down and fully realise your scripts and ideas in the way they deserve.

Testing them out with friends, family or local actors.

Entering opportunities that might give you a window into the professional world, where you can be stretched and challenged.

Talking to people about their experiences.

Learning.

Building your understanding of the world you're trying to become part of.

And I think we also need to look at the people who really do become very successful and consider the compromises they've made in their lives to pursue what they're passionate about. I suspect those compromises are considerable.

And then there's one nasty truth.

I'm afraid talent does contain some degree of ability; pure hard work can only get you so far. You could be a wonderfully passionate 20-year-old, absolutely bursting with ideas and enthusiasm, and you might even convince someone to help you develop a script. But you still need to have a really good, strong understanding of your craft and how to tell a story. You need to have some degree of ability.

Which, of course, is something you can develop through the curiosity that comes with passion, through professional development, and through time spent understanding your craft. And, crucially, through doing it.

You can read all the textbooks you like. You can do course after course after course. But if you're not actually writing scripts, sending them out, getting feedback and learning from the experience, how much are you really developing?

Your work gets better by doing the work.

There's also something to be said about how the industry recognises talent.

When we hear producers, commissioners or agents talking about whether someone has talent, I suspect they're looking for evidence that a writer has already accrued a certain degree of ability through all the things I've discussed. I suppose that's fair enough.

It's a bit like looking at a painting. You can appreciate the finished work without necessarily knowing how many sketches, mistakes, discarded ideas and hours of practice went into creating it.

I think the industry generally wants to see the finished painting. They want to know that you're capable of producing work that's ready to be presented, rather than watching you figure out how to get there.

But there's a bit of a catch, isn't there?

Because you wouldn't necessarily put yourself forward if you didn't think you were ready. And sometimes the only way to find out whether you actually are ready is to put yourself out there.

Thankfully, there are a growing number of producers and executives who work directly with “emerging talent” - but let’s not lose our heads over what they might still be expecting to see when they meet you…!

So perhaps when someone in the industry questions whether a writer has talent, what they're really questioning is whether that writer has developed their talent sufficiently for the opportunities they're being considered for.

I'm beginning to think talent is something that's earned, rather than simply something you're born with.

I do think there are people in the world who are born with an intense focus or a particular aptitude for something. Perhaps this is down to circumstance, opportunity, encouragement or even genetics. They lean into it, often from a very young age, and because they're able to devote themselves to it so heavily and so freely, they're able to push the boundaries and excel much quicker.

And then there are some of us mere mortals who are perhaps staring down the barrel of middle age. For me, talent is something that has become a goal; a destination.

And I know that if I work hard enough, remain humble enough and stay curious enough, there's every chance in the world that I, too, could one day have an exhibition at the Design Museum.

Although I suppose I'd better learn to draw first.

How do you feel about talent? Is it something we're born with, something we develop, or a combination of the two? Let me know 🤗

Helen

Next up… Are We Addicted to Opportunities?

© Helen Tompson 2026 | Feel free to share this newsletter with other writers. If you'd like to reproduce or quote larger sections, just drop me a message first.