For the young who want to

I thought this is a really good poem. It could somewhat be considered a feminist poem because it is by a female poet, especially when it is written in the 1980s. But I do believe in the last line of it - that you have to like the work you do more than it loves you. Otherwise you would just kill your soul. We are all better dead this way, isn't it.

And all my parents want from me is a licence to hang on my wall that says "Certified Public Accountant of Singapore". It does not matter if the licence has a validity for only one year. Up till now, I can understand from their point of view, but I have not quite convinced myself that the time and effort required is worth that licence on the wall.

Consider it a cost and benefit analysis.

For the young who want to
Talent is what they say
you have after the novel
is published and favorably
reviewed. Beforehand what
you have is a tedious
delusion, a hobby like knitting.

Work is what you have done
after the play is produced
and the audience claps.
Before that friends keep asking
when you are planning to go
out and get a job.

Genius is what they know you
had after the third volume
of remarkable poems. Earlier
they accuse you of withdrawing,
ask why you don't have a baby,
call you a bum.

The reason people want M.F.A.'s,
take workshops with fancy names
when all you can really
learn is a few techniques,
typing instructions and some-
body else's mannerisms

is that every artist lacks
a license to hang on the wall
like your optician, your vet
proving you may be a clumsy sadist
whose fillings fall into the stew
but you're certified a dentist.

The real writer is one
who really writes. Talent
is an invention like phlogiston
after the fact of fire.
Work is its own cure. You have to
like it better than being loved.

Marge Piercy