"It would be pretty easy for me to write brilliant song lyrics," I said, "Or draw a comic book. Or write a movie script. I've heard a lot of hit songs, and I know every single word in all of them. I know many songs by heart, even. It should be easy enough to make another one that matches the pattern of great songs. The same goes for drawings, or dialogue, or whatever. I know lines and dots and things, and I definitely know movies. How hard can a car chase scene be? You have a car going fast and another car right behind it, also going fast."
"True," said the mountain goat, "But let me tell you this. The game of go has simple rules. Black and white pebbles on the intersections of a grid. Surround the other guy and take his pieces. Or hers, of course. Don't put a piece where it would be captured unless you're capturing."
"I know the rules of go," I replied testily.
"But here's something you need to know. When a go master talks about playing go, he doesn't even think about those rules. They're unconscious and invisible. He sees winds and flows, abstract concepts you wouldn't be able to see. A poet doesn't see words; he sees the connections between words. A journalist doesn't just see facts; he sees which facts are interesting enough to pay his rent. A car chase script writer doesn't see two cars; he sees the look on the audience's faces."
He paused thoughtfully for a moment.
"...or she," he added.
"I still think I can do it," I said, "They're guessing too, it's just they're guessing more often. Have you ever heard the other songs of a one-hit wonder?"
He looked displeased with that.
"Let me guess," I said, "Now you're going to try to say you're right, because you're a magical talking goat and so you must know what you're talking about."
The goat looked abashed, "Well, yeah. I kind of was about to go there, but now that you put it that way, forget it."