It takes a certain rare ability to be recognized as being especially talented by others. Famous athletes are normally those who excel spectacularly relative to their peers (with the strange exception of Anna Kournikova). Famous musicians play the most beautiful notes, and most original arrangements. Famous writers are those who manage to touch us in a special way through their use of the written word. The names of these people linger on our lips long after death has stolen them from our sight.
I think we would all agree that there is an unparalleled genius that marks one as being a true master of one’s craft. So too must there be a brand of genius in being the worst at something. As an example, I present to you the late William Topaz McGonagall of Edinburgh, Scotland (1825-1902). Though 100 years dead, McGonagall is still honored by many as the absolute worst poet in the history of the English language. Having read his works, I can find no reason to disagree.
Though mocked by his contemporaries, the quixotic McGonagall still fancied himself an accomplished poet and tragedian. He gave on-demand recitals of his work regularly for people who gathered only to make fun. From time to time he received letters from “admirers” which always turned out to be jokes at his expense. He was once awarded the title of Knight of the White Elephant in a letter from one “King Theebaw of Burmah”. Oblivious to the trickery, McGonagall embraced the bogus honorific until his death. He also received several invitations to visit aristocrats across Britain and overseas. He made several of these trips only to find on arrival, that he had been mislead. McGonagall even followed his dreams to New York with only eight shillings in his pocket. He was unable to sell a single poem, and was able to book passage back home due only to the generosity of a sympathetic patron from Dundee. He later died penniless and was buried in a pauper’s grave in his native Edinburgh.
Sad story isn’t it? Or is it? At 47 years of age, William McGonagall the textile worker had a dream of becoming a famous poet. He did not allow lack of money, or lack of ability to stop him. He was a laughing-stock, but his indomitable spirit endeared him to others. He traveled places he never would have gone in the textile industry. There are worse ways to die than in pursuing one’s life’s dream.
Explore your weaknesses. If you can’t be a celebrity doing something well, why not settle for the next best thing? People might remember. People remember Willie McGonagall. They’re going to put up a memorial beside the river Tay – the setting of his most popular poem.
So, what do you really suck at? Get to work! We’re all here waiting to laugh at you.
Bye for now.