Lunch Ticket
  • Current Issue
  • Archive
    • Issues Archive
      • Issue 21: Summer/Fall 2022
      • Issue 20: Winter/Spring 2022
      • Issue 19: Summer/Fall 2021
      • Issue 18: Winter/Spring 2021
      • Issue 17: Summer/Fall 2020
      • Issue 16: Winter/Spring 2020
      • Issue 15: Summer/Fall 2019
      • Issue 14: Winter/Spring 2019
      • Issue 13: Summer/Fall 2018
      • Issue 12: Winter/Spring 2018
      • Issue 11: Summer/Fall 2017
      • Issue 10: Winter/Spring 2017
      • Issue 9: Summer/Fall 2016
      • Issue 8: Winter/Spring 2016
      • Issue 7: Summer/Fall 2015
      • Issue 6: Winter/Spring 2015
      • Issue 5: Summer/Fall 2014
      • Issue 4: Winter/Spring 2014
      • Issue 3: Summer/Fall 2013
      • Issue 2: Winter/Spring 2013
      • Issue 1: Spring 2012
    • Genre Archive
      • Creative Nonfiction
      • Essays
      • Fiction
      • Flash Prose
      • Interviews
      • Lunch Specials
      • Poetry
      • Translation
      • Visual Art
      • Writing for Young People
  • About
    • Mission Statement
    • Lunch Ticket Staff
      • Issue 21: Summer/Fall 2022
      • Issue 20: Winter/Spring 2022
      • Issue 19: Summer/Fall 2021
      • Issue 18: Winter/Spring 2021
      • Issue 17: Summer/Fall 2020
      • Issue 16: Winter/Spring 2020
      • Issue 15: Summer/Fall 2019
      • Issue 14: Winter/Spring 2019
      • Issue 13: Summer/Fall 2018
      • Issue 12: Winter/Spring 2018
      • Issue 11: Summer/Fall 2017
      • Issue 10: Winter/Spring 2017
      • Issue 9: Summer/Fall 2016
      • Issue 8: Winter/Spring 2016
      • Issue 7: Summer/Fall 2015
      • Issue 6: Winter/Spring 2015
      • Issue 5: Summer/Fall 2014
      • Issue 4: Winter/Spring 2014
      • Issue 3: Summer/Fall 2013
      • Issue 2: Winter/Spring 2013
      • Issue 1: Spring 2012
    • Achievements
    • Community
    • Contact
  • Weekly Content
    • Friday Lunch Blog
    • Midnight Snack
    • Amuse-Bouche
    • School Lunch
  • Contests
    • Diana Woods Award in CNF
      • Issue 21: Summer/Fall 2022
      • Issue 20: Winter/Spring 2022
      • Issue 19: Summer/Fall 2021
      • Issue 18: Winter/Spring 2021
      • Issue 17: Summer/Fall 2020
      • Issue 16: Winter/Spring 2020
      • Issue 15: Summer/Fall 2019
      • Issue 14: Winter/Spring 2019
      • Issue 13: Summer/Fall 2018
      • Issue 12: Winter/Spring 2018
      • Issue 11: Summer/Fall 2017
      • Issue 10: Winter/Spring 2017
      • Issue 9: Summer/Fall 2016
      • Issue 8: Winter/Spring 2016
      • Issue 7: Summer/Fall 2015
      • Issue 6: Winter/Spring 2015
      • Issue 5: Summer/Fall 2014
      • Issue 4: Winter/Spring 2014
      • Issue 3: Summer/Fall 2013
    • Gabo Prize in Translation
      • Issue 21: Summer/Fall 2022
      • Issue 20: Winter/Spring 2022
      • Issue 19: Summer/Fall 2021
      • Issue 18: Winter/Spring 2021
      • Issue 17: Summer/Fall 2020
      • Issue 16: Winter/Spring 2020
      • Issue 15: Summer/Fall 2019
      • Issue 14: Winter/Spring 2019
      • Issue 13: Summer/Fall 2018
      • Issue 12: Winter/Spring 2018
      • Issue 11: Summer/Fall 2017
      • Issue 10: Winter/Spring 2017
      • Issue 9: Summer/Fall 2016
      • Issue 8: Winter/Spring 2016
      • Issue 7: Summer/Fall 2015
      • Issue 6: Winter/Spring 2015
    • Twitter Poetry Contest
      • 2021 Winners
      • 2020 Winners
      • 2019 Winners
  • Submissions
  • Search
  • Menu Menu
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Twitter

My Parents Didn’t Have a Personal Library

October 18, 2019/ Alexis McCadney

Let me start with a story from high school.

I used to run track. I ran it for two years. I did it mainly because I love running, but I also wanted to be like my father who played on the basketball, football, and track teams when he was in high school, on top of being an A student.

I don’t have a letterman jacket. I don’t have any medals. I don’t have the one picture I took with the team when I was on it. 

Why?

Because my coach never put me in a single meet.

Let me explain. My coach, who was an older woman, took one look at my long legs and told me I had potential, that because I had long legs and a good running time, I could do great things for the team.

But, she never properly trained me, or any of the other girls on the team for that matter.

I was a fast runner, but I was also very weak. My stamina was low and my core muscles were underdeveloped, something that could’ve easily been remedied had my coach put me on a proper regime. She never put anyone on a regime to strengthen their core, or increase their stamina, or train against wind resistance. Instead what she did was run us until we were all exhausted.

I would run at practice, pain beating in my right side in time with my heart, and ignore it like it didn’t hurt. I listened to my coach as she told me, “I can see when the monkey jumps on your back.” I ran some more with the pain, my tennis shoes clipping my ankles as I ran because I was leaning to take off some of the pain. And then, after practice, I would go home and run on the old, half-broken treadmill in my mother’s office, because I believed that if I ran some more, I could beat the pain that bled from my right side until it covered my entire stomach, my weak abdominal muscles struggling to keep me upright. It wasn’t until I finished high school, college, began an MFA Program, that I realized running required more than just running. It worked the whole body and the whole body needed to be strong.

I, and many other girls, never ran a single meet, because the time was never taken to hone the weaknesses that prevented us from realizing our full potential.

There were other girls on the team who ran in every meet who felt like they were being run to death while the rest of us sat on the sidelines. These girls complained to the coach about not properly training us, those of us who were left to sit on the sidelines, and not seeing what we could do and trying us in different positions. These were the naturally talented girls, who begged the coach to let all of us to do the same exercises as the boys team. Girls who played on the basketball and volleyball teams when those were in season or who were just naturally fast and strong. Girls who did not need to be trained, who did not need unique regimens to overcome their weaknesses, but still desired them. 

My freshman year on the track team, my coach replaced me with an eighth grader who was faster than me. As I cried, she explained to me that sometimes potential isn’t enough, that I could run everyday yet still not be good enough. That people are born with a certain talent, and others are just not, and sometimes it doesn’t matter how hard someone works, that they could work at something everyday and just never be good at it. That talents can’t be learned, skills can’t be cultivated. People are either born with or without. My coach’s name has been lost to time, but what she said to me hasn’t.

I would try out for the track team two more times. Sophomore year, she was still the coach and I didn’t make the team. Junior year she was not and I did. That year, our coaches were male and we all hoped that we’d be trained like the boys, working in the weight room and not just on rainy days, running with parachutes on our backs to help with resistance training, and with everyone having the opportunity to run in a meet. 

But that didn’t happen. Nothing changed. The male coaches worked us the same as the old coach did. I didn’t try harder because I believed that my “talent” would finally come through and inspire them to let me run in a game. 

It didn’t. 

I never competed. During my freshman year, I only attended one meet. I was an alternate, which meant if a girl didn’t show up, or couldn’t run, I would take her place. The girl pleaded with my coach to let her sit the 4x4and put me in, my coach refused and made her run. The girl placed, even through her exhaustion, while I sat under our team’s tarp, put up earlier to protect us from the Mississippi sun. I thought everything was simply down to luck and talent, and I was just unlucky and untalented. Later, I was cut from the team. I was—and probably still am—bitter that I never got a letterman jacket, even if my high school’s jackets were ugly.

I stopped running. My father tried to encourage me to try out for my college’s track team. I refused. All I could think about were the girls who were more talented than I was, who ran on their highschool’s track teams, who would be picked instead of me.

*     *      *

So, what does this have to do with writing?

When it comes to anything in the arts, many believe that good art is something that doesn’t have to be learned, it’s an innate talent that you either have or don’t. Talent is something you have to be born with, so if you don’t already have it why try and get better at the arts at all? Talent implies that you’ve already failed before you’ve even began.

Before, and even when I started my MFA Program, I had no intentions of becoming a real writer. I thought that writing books was something you were born with.

I’ve heard a lot of people say that going to school to learn how to write, or to earn a degree in the arts in general, is a waste of money. I was convinced that writing is a talent and that all someone has to do is write everyday and they too can be good at it. 

But writing, especially good and great writing, is a skill that needs to be learned. 

Not everyone had a parent, or two, who were writers, or had bookcases full of writing to read every day starting at the age of three. Not everyone became a  genius by eight, won prizes by thirteen, or published a book before the age of twenty-five. Some of us lacked the access or education that would’ve allowed us to become good writers. It made it so that becoming a good writer wasn’t easy.

The idea that good and great writing is somehow innate pushes those who had the potential but aren’t properly trained to the sidelines. Everyone has potential; nobody is ever just born being great at the arts.

Some people become great writers with ease due to accessibility, tools they probably won’t mention because they assume everyone else had them too. Other people need time specifically dedicated to learning to write with the help of someone who has years of experience.

You don’t necessarily need a degree to be good or great at something. But, to say that you don’t need a degree to be good at the arts usually comes from the mouth of someone with an immense amount of privilege, who had the tools, education, support that allowed them to be great. Talent and implied geniusness are always held up over taking the time to master a skill.

A friend asked me what was the point of learning to write, saying that it was something everyone knew how to do. They thought that spending money to get an MFA was useless when I could just simply sit down and write and edit on my own. They thought my writing was okay, but I could see the holes in my work that I didn’t have the skills to fix. I knew that I needed to get an MFA to be the writer I wanted to be. I didn’t have the skills to teach myself.

My decision to get an MFA isn’t a bad one, there were skills I knew I couldn’t learn on my own. How many years would I have spent writing myself into a corner until I discovered my weaknesses? How many books would I have to read and manuscripts I would have to throw away until I decided I was good enough? I took the time to weed out programs I couldn’t afford or dedicate time to, the program I was able to apply to was accessible to me. I have privileges that weren’t available to me as a child, a still aren’t available to many others, higher education is barred from many due to many reasons. I didn’t grow up in an environment that encouraged me into writing, I didn’t have an opportunity to cultivate that skill until I became an adult. My father taught me that an education was the most important thing that anyone, especially a Black woman, could have. No one in my family considers my future MFA to be useless, because I will be the only member of my family to have one. 

Skill and talent go hand-in-hand. But talent always implies an immense amount of privilege no one wants to acknowledge. 

Skill lets people in. Talent pushes them out.

Alexis McCadney is a Nonfiction and Fiction MFA candidate at Antioch University Los Angeles. She received her B.A. in English Literature from the University of San Francisco. She’s interned as a Social Media assistant for LitQuake and worked as Nonfiction Editor and Fiction Assistant editor for USF’s Undergraduate staffed Ignation Magazine. She has held many roles on Lunch Ticket, but is currently on the Blog, Outreach, Graphic Design, and Research teams. Her hobbies include sketching, photography (does not like to be photographed herself), napping, and wasting her money.

Friday Lunch Archive

  • 2022
  • 2021
  • 2020
  • 2019
  • 2018
  • 2017
  • 2016
  • 2015
  • 2014

Midnight Snack

A destination for all your late night obsessions.

Tonight’s bites:

QVC-land

May 6, 2022/in A Transfer, Midnight Snack / D. E. Hardy
Read more
https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/Diana-Hardy_QVC_Feature_Photo.png 533 800 D. E. Hardy https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png D. E. Hardy2022-05-06 23:45:322022-07-18 17:54:56QVC-land

Escape Artists at the End of the World

April 29, 2022/in A Transfer, Midnight Snack / Lisa Levy
Read more
https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/waldemar-brandt-eIOPDU3Fkwk-unsplash-scaled-1.jpg 1707 2560 Lisa Levy https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Lisa Levy2022-04-29 23:49:582022-06-13 18:34:12Escape Artists at the End of the World

The House in the Middle

April 15, 2022/in A Transfer, Midnight Snack / Megan Vasquez
Read more
https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/alec-douglas-iuC9fvq63J8-unsplash-scaled-1.jpg 2560 1707 Megan Vasquez https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Megan Vasquez2022-04-15 23:45:322022-04-15 23:45:32The House in the Middle

More coming soon!

Amuse-Bouche

Little bites every Monday to whet your appetite!

Today’s plate:

My Mother’s Hands

August 8, 2022/in Amuse-Bouche / Annie Marhefka
Read more
https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/08/Annie_Marhefka-2-scaled.jpg 2048 2560 Annie Marhefka https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Annie Marhefka2022-08-08 11:55:122022-08-06 12:46:50My Mother’s Hands

Defy Gravity

August 1, 2022/in Amuse-Bouche / Megan Peck
Read more
https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/08/Megan_02_3-scaled.jpg 2319 2560 Megan Peck https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Megan Peck2022-08-01 11:55:122022-08-01 10:51:29Defy Gravity

Little Shrimp

July 25, 2022/in Amuse-Bouche / Karen Poppy
Read more
https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/Karen_Poppy_Headshot.jpg 800 600 Karen Poppy https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Karen Poppy2022-07-25 11:45:552022-07-25 11:14:12Little Shrimp

More Amuse-Bouche »

School Lunch

An occasional Wednesday series dishing up today’s best youth writers.

Today’s slice:

I’ve Stayed in the Front Yard

May 12, 2021/in School Lunch, School Lunch 2021 / Brendan Nurczyk
Read more
https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/SL-Insta-Brendan-Nurczyk-2.png 1500 1500 Brendan Nurczyk https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Brendan Nurczyk2021-05-12 10:18:392022-02-01 13:24:05I’ve Stayed in the Front Yard

A Communal Announcement

April 28, 2021/in School Lunch, School Lunch 2021 / Isabella Dail
Read more
https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/SL-FB-Isabella-Dail.png 788 940 Isabella Dail https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Isabella Dail2021-04-28 11:34:132021-04-28 11:34:13A Communal Announcement

Seventeen

April 14, 2021/in School Lunch, School Lunch 2021 / Abigail E. Calimaran
Read more
https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/SL-Insta-Abigail-E.-Calimaran.png 1080 1080 Abigail E. Calimaran https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Abigail E. Calimaran2021-04-14 11:22:062021-04-14 11:22:06Seventeen

More School Lunch »

Word From the Editor

The variety in this issue speaks not only to the eclectic world we inhabit but to the power of the human spirit. We live in an uncertain world. In the U.S., we’re seeing mass shootings daily. Across the world, we’re still very much in a pandemic, some being trapped in their homes for weeks on end, others struggling to stay alive in hospitals. War continues to wage in Ukraine. Iran and North Korea are working diligently to make nuclear weapons. The list goes on. Still, we have artists who are willing and able to be vulnerable with one another, to share stories and art to help us try and make sense of our world.

More from the current editor »
Current Issue »

Connect With Us

lunchticket on facebooklunchticket on instalunchticket on twitter
Submit to Lunch Ticket

A literary and art journal
from the MFA community at
Antioch University Los Angeles.

Get Your Ticket

We’ll keep you fed with great new writing, insightful interviews, and thought-provoking art, and promise with all our hearts never to share your info with anyone else.

Newsletter Signup
Copyright © 2021 LunchTicket.org. All Rights Reserved. Web design and development by GoodWebWorks.
Scroll to top