I learned Japanese spontaneously. I'm not joking when I say that. Before ever going to Japan, the number of times I'd ever attempted a conversation with a Japanese-speaker could be counted on one hand, and those attempts never went very far. All I know is that I was able to speak and understand to an extent when I touched down in Japan.
Granted, I had spent the better part of two decades 'studying' the language. That said, 'studying' for me amounted to what I can consider 'immersion', though not in the sense usually given for language acquisition. Rather, I spent many years exposing myself to various topics related to Japan, its history, its customs, its people, its art, and so on. Things that would be strange to most outside observers came to no longer appear strange to me. In fact, given pieces of knowledge gathered through all of my reading and searching, I had begun to make a sort of sense out of things; I had context in which to view them as manifestations of familiar things.
When I started off trying to write fiction, I had never really attempted to write anything of any length beyond attempts at scripts for animated shows and visual novels. I didn't even know how to punctuate dialogue correctly or how to sensibly separate things into paragraphs. I'd hardly paid much attention to books, having mostly read lightweight juvenile lit up to that point, more interested in visual storytelling than anything. My notions of storytelling were naive and underdeveloped. I trusted others unconditionally when they gave me 'advice' about writing, even though most of it left me frustrated and no closer to accomplishing anything. Most of the time, I just didn't write anything. I read style manuals and learned to correct others' punctuation and usage faux pas. I read theories about mythology and the structures of folktales. I read tiny extracts of actual folktales and myths.
At some point, not satisfied with being an editor for others, I tried in earnest to start writing. The result was far from breathtaking, but I believe it was sound enough from a basic mechanical standpoint. Without much conscious analysis of others' writing, I had internalised some sense of what felt 'okay' for dialogue. I even had a sense of timing or 'rhythm' for it. My prose was clumsy, but it managed to convey something. With outside guidance as to my goals, I was able to even go from a starting point to an ending point more than a few times. I hadn't learned how to make all of my own decisions; I still haven't learned that.
These two examples present something of a conundrum that I'm faced with. I have demonstrably learned in the past, yet I don't actually know how I've learned. As far as the model suggests, I was exposed to a degree of input and then spontaneously began to output, having somehow assimilated rules and patterns through pure exposure. The amount of time I spent on active analytical learning was minimal. The few attempts I made at actively taking in things were only frustrating and ineffective. I had proven time and again unable to make any sort of conscious inner reckoning of subject matter.
I don't believe that I'm a savant of any sort. Much the opposite, I think I'm largely below-average in most respects, intellectually. My ability to express myself in words comes with strange limitations that appear arbitrary and nonsensical to outside observation, yet I nonetheless am limited in the ways that I am. I lack anything resembling a sensible framework for self-analysis. Improving on my existing ability feels like an exercise in trial-and-error — or endlessly slamming my head against the wall and hoping I don't bleed out.
The best I can do is have these sorts of sudden realisations, not quite 'eureka' moments but more like a slow, sludgy seeping-in before I randomly notice. Once I can vocalise it, the realisation is something resembling complete. That is what this process is about. That is why I have to commit my thoughts to digital paper. That is why there is anything here at all, in spite of my general lack of confidence in any of it having a 'worth' in being read.