Back in the 1990s there was a spate of little aphorism books stuffed full of one-line insights (supposedly) about how we could get our shit together, live our best lives, etc. One of which offered this advice: work on your weaknesses until they become your strengths. As a writer, I don’t think that’s completely good advice (maybe not in other realms either).
It’s important to fix weaknesses if they’re serious ones doing us harm. A good friend of mine, for instance, was horrible at meeting deadlines. They’d dawdle until it was almost too late, then engage in an all-out, no-holds-barred rush to get it done. And usually miss the deadline. Their books were good enough the publisher didn’t drop them but they burned out on the tight squeeze. Working on that weakness would have kept them writing (don’t worry, they’re happy with their post-writing life).
On the other hand, as novelist Lawrence Block once put it, it’s easy for even a successful writer to decide good writing is whatever they can’t do. Sure, they’re successful sword-and-sorcery writers but their characterization, it’s not deep and complex! Sure they’re characterization is complex but they’re world-building isn’t good enough! Then they obsess over the things they can’t do and try turning them into strengths. If the weakness doesn’t hurt your career, that’s a waste of energy.
For example, reading Alex Bledsoe’s The Hum and the Shiver and Lucy Blue’s The Devil Makes Three made me realize I almost never write a-hole characters unless they’re the villains. Both books include a supporting character who’s a complete dick: bullying, racist (the Blue book), utterly unpleasant to be around. Well executed and written in both cases.
I hate characters like that. It’s hard for me to read about them. I have no wish to write them into a book. I might if the book called for it but it’s not my preference.
Is that a weakness? Maybe. It is a part of reality I’m making a conscious choice to avoid. Does that mean I should work on it until writing horrible, bullying characters is one of my strengths? Probably not. It wouldn’t be fun for me. I don’t think my books suffer from the lack of them. And I don’t think I’d transform my admittedly modest career into a blockbuster sensation if I did. Better to concentrate on the stuff I do well.
On the other hand, a weakness I do work on is crowd scenes. My mind doesn’t like to write groups of people as faceless crowds of extras. In the opening of Southern Discomfort, for instance, Maria’s on a Greyhound bus, worried the cops are closing in on her and compulsively checking out the other passengers. The one-handed black guy across the aisle from her, reading The Real Cool Killers. A white woman chain-smoking. A white teenage girl restlessly chewing bubble gum. A black teen reading a comic book Maria assumes is about the Black Panthers.
I don’t think this is a weakness in itself but my writing group has said several times that the details get overwhelming, and sometimes create the impression these people are all important. In that opening scene I’ve trimmed the number of individuals I describe down. I wouldn’t say that turns a weakness into a strength necessarily but I’ll trust my beta-readers that it does improve things.
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