too old to write

WRITING OLD

There’s been a good bit of chatter about being an OLD writer over at Writer Unboxed this past week — first Juliet Marillier’s post, and then another by Keith Cronin. Age is something I have trouble not thinking about.

I married when I was in the second half of my 30’s. We wanted kids, and at that point I had been steeped in articles about the troubles of getting pregnant after 35, so we got to work posthaste.

Miraculously, or so it seemed, I got pregnant about 20 minutes after our wedding. But when I went to the OBGyn for confirmation, I learned that my pregnancy was not just a pregnancy — it was AN AMA PREGNANCY. AMA stands for Advanced Maternal Age, and the label overshadowed the subsequent 7 or 8 months in ways that repeatedly drove home the fact that I was old. Nevermind that up until that point in my life, I had never really been ready to become a mom.

geriatric-pregnancy-hf

And I thought “AMA” was bad — the current label is “Geriatric Pregnancy”. Ow. (from grownupsmag.com)

My first daughter arrived and, in my new role as “mother”, I developed the unfortunate habit of doing mental math whenever I met or read women who were — or were writing about — mothering. Finding other “old” moms always elicited a satisfied, little, internal sigh. And coming across women who’d done it even later than me became cause for a secret, private party in the less-moored parts of my psyche.

In my mid 40’s, I shifted my work-focus away from landscape architecture and over to writing children’s books, in the process gaining a whole new outlet for my age-comparing habit: I could now apply my math skills to the book-birthing age of authors as well.

I’ve thought about this age thing a lot (not that I’ve stopped doing the math, of course). The thing is: I tried my hand at writing children’s books in my (childless) 20’s too. But back then the business of ‘embracing fear’ was relegated to physical activities like white water kayaking, or bike commuting in the then-less-bike-friendly City of New York. I didn’t have the emotional or psychological wherewithal to commit and struggle and fail in more personal ways.

My writing practice, now, seems to have an openness — and also a level of self-awareness and self-critique — that I really don’t think I could’ve mustered up back then. Physical challenges were doable, but jumping in and writing every day over the long haul, with no promise of recognition or success, was beyond me.

Related to this, too, I don’t think I would have approached character in a way that would’ve gotten me very far. I was more prone to judging and criticizing myself and others, and less inclined to empathize. If you’re going to try to write relatable, full-bodied characters you need some understanding and compassion — for others and for yourself. Some of this has come with age and living, and some evolves simply by writing.

I’m nearing 50 now, and I sold my first picture book last year. More importantly, though, I write every day. My writing practice and the interactions I have within my various real-time and on-line writing communities help me grow and bring me joy that I’m pretty sure I couldn’t’ve found and wouldn’t’ve been open to when I was younger. I may be older than some — or even most — people newly trying to write for kids, but at least I am ready. And despite all my mental math, I’m thinking that readiness probably trumps youth.