On Blooming Late
So, when I was 25, I remember looking around to find writers who experienced great success before the age of 30. I was hopeful. Ambitious. And ultimately, disappointed. Oh there were lots of writers who came out of the gate like being shot out of a cannon. I just wasn’t one of them. A few weeks back, I googled “writers who publish their first novel after the age of 60”. Came up with a couple hits, including an article from The Atlantic about great literary late bloomers. Not just good, but great. So it has been done and done well. Time flies, hope springs eternal and WTF??? Over 60 and still haven’t published a novel? My 25 year self would be so ashamed. In fact, he’s standing behind me right now and whacking me with something wet and sticky that smells horrible. Or maybe I’ve just filled my adult diaper again. These things are so confusing. Where was I? Oh yeah. Reminiscing about my path to glory. My younger self was such a cheeky little prick – thinking that the best way