I like to read nonfiction by great writers. So, when I found the book, Burning Questions and Occasional Pieces by Margaret Atwood on the shelf at the Ann Arbor District Library, I picked it up. Margaret Atwood–for those of you who don’t know her–is a renowned Canadian author, perhaps most well-known for her book, The Handmaid’s Tale, which has been adapted for both film and TV.
Burning Questions and Occasional Pieces is a collection of essays. In the essay, Five Visits to the Word-Hoard, Atwood talks about how she writes and what makes a successful writer. She says,
You can work at a thing, and you can learn it. But, only up to a point. Beyond that comes the talent, which is a given. It’s there or it isn’t there, in varying quantities, and it can’t be predicted or demanded, and it is not reasonable and predictable, and it can be with you at one point in your life and then vanish. Practising a craft can awaken a dormant talent. Conversely, too much practising can kill it. Such matters are incalculable, and much depends on coincidence and luck.
I think that operating Morse Code is kind of like this. Most everyone can learn how to send and receive the code, but not everyone is going to be able to operate at 50+ words per minute. To do that, it takes some talent. But, even if you have a talent for the code, you need to practice to realize that talent.
As for awakening a dormant talent, you may never know that you have a talent for Morse Code unless you try it. Back in the 1970s, we didn’t have a choice as to whether we wanted to try it or not. That’s not the case today, so if you’re a licensed radio amateur, I’d encourage you to give it a try. It might wake up that CW operator inside you.
As far as too much practice killing your desire to operate Morse Code, I’d say that there’s some truth in that, too. If you think that you’re overdoing it, back off a little. Knowing Morse Code is not a matter of life and death, after all. It’s just another part of our hobby, and hobbies are supposed to be fun.