When I was single, I had a euphemism for that moment when you’re dating someone new and somehow you miss the opportunity for sex. The euphemism is that you missed the boat.
You’re standing on the dock, watching the speedboat/sailboat/rowboat (depending on the person) disappear on the horizon. Occasionally (very rarely), the boat could return, but usually once you miss it, you never get the chance again.
I’ve been thinking of that euphemism and all the fun play on words we used to do when describing a variety of dating and sex scenarios recently. You see, I’m currently reading A View from the Cheap Seats, which is a collection of articles and speeches written by Neil Gaiman on a variety of topics.
In it, he shares much of how he sees the world, how he got into reading and then writing, stories of other writers, his creative muses, his kids, etc. He has a tendency, like my husband, to repeat stories, but there are only so many life experiences a person can have that they want to share with an audience.
When I compare his creative life to some of the other authors’ that I’ve watched during the Creator Speakers’ series of my writing (and working) program – Daniel Handler, VE Schwab, Chuck Palahniuk – I’m noticing a pattern, a distinct difference between them and myself.
They began their creative careers out of college.
They bumped into creative people, collaborated, had amazing friendships with well-known and published writers, and have basically spent at least 15+ years (depending on their ages) or more writing books, articles, reviews, comic books, graphic novels, etc.
Not all of it successful, but all of it building their craft.
I…did not do that.
In fact, with the exception of filling journals with my woeful life tales, legal briefs, emails, and a few (work) blog posts here or there, I didn’t do any actual writing at all once I left school. I’m 48 years old and my first book publishes Fall 2021.
I am a writer. But hearing other successful, amazing, and proliferate writers talk about their life, I do wonder: did I miss the creative boat?
Did I miss the window of opportunity of bumping into amazing creators, cultivating friendships and honing my craft? Can I, in fact, be a successful writer now at my age?
Writer & Success Defined
If you ask social media, and specifically the writer communities on Twitter and Instagram (an amazing group of funny, flawed, supportive, insecure, wise and naive people), you’ll be told the following:
A writer is someone who writes.
An author is someone who has published. (As far as I remember, it is not specified as to what type of writing, just that it is published)
The dictionary, or Merriam Webster anyway, agrees with these definitions. So just by writing this post or my book, I am a writer.
Once my book publishes, I’ll be able to say I’m an author.
But for now, I’ll stick with writer, because for some reason, I don’t feel comfortable with the author tag. (Ask me again in September, though. I might have a different opinion.)
Now that writer is defined, I wanted to tackle the definition of success.
Going back to the dictionary, Merriam Webster unhelpfully defines it as “a degree or measure of succeeding.” Not wanting to go down that particular rabbit hole, I decide to stick with definition b: “favorable or desired outcome.”
I reached out to the writer community on Twitter. Of the few people who responded, most of them said they wanted people to read their books. Or enjoy their books. Or have more people read their books.
Nowhere in their responses were, “I want to bump into Neil Gaiman at a Con and strike up a collaboration with him.”
So maybe my definition of success shouldn’t be based on Neil Gaiman’s 25+ year career or VE Schwab’s 15+ year career.
I’m old. Not teeth falling out, bones creakin’ old, but old enough. I get tight muscles if I sit for too long, my back aches if I try to garden, and occasionally my knees hurt.
Starting my writing career at 48 seems daunting. I want to do all the things right now, so that I don’t miss anything. I want to hone my craft, write more, and write better every time. I want to excel at writing and be able to craft gorgeous sentences and scenes.
My idea of being a success: I publish a book that readers enjoy and find immersive. And maybe I publish more than one book or blog or Medium article.
But you get the picture.
I did a little research of late blooming writers to make myself feel better:
- Toni Morrison (40)
- Mark Twain (41)
- JRR Tolkien (45)
- Raymond Chandler (51)
- Richard Adams (52)
- Annie Proulx (57)
Look at those names and ages! They all had amazing careers and they all started late. Some slightly earlier than me and others much later.
I don’t feel so old now. (Ask me after I finish pulling English ivy out of the garden and I may have a different answer.)
Conclusion
Growing up-at the age of 39 even-if you asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d say a writer. I’m just now realizing why I said that – I love it. I’ve always loved it, I was just too afraid to do it.
The first time my husband called me a writer or the first time I said I was a writer on an Instagram Livestream, I cried as the feelings of overwhelming rightness hit me.
So who cares if I haven’t been pounding the keys for the past 25 years? Who cares if I’m just now honing my craft? I don’t. And do you know why?
Because I am a writer. And my journey has just begun.