Is your fifties too late to write a novel?
To begin a career as a novelist in your mid-fifties is not for the fainthearted.
Looking around at all the young, fresh talent and at contemporaries who have already ‘cracked it’, and have a vast back catalogue of best sellers can be enough to make you want to give up before even starting.
But I’m here to explain why I believe a new writer in her sixth decade has as much to offer as anyone else.
To do this, I want to tell you my story. I hope you will read it and think ‘well if she can do it…’
In my twenties, my focus was on reading the ‘Bonkbusters’ as we knew them. I devoured Jackie Collins, Judith Krantz, and Jilly Cooper novels with relish. By the time I hit my thirties, I’d developed a broader interest in reading, enjoying commercial and literary fiction.
As time passed, I felt an increasing urge to add my work to the vast catalogue of stories out in the public domain. Yet a lack of confidence bit at my heels like a badly behaved puppy and meant I could never take that step.
Once I hit fifty, I was working part time doing some general copywriting for a few clients. Reaching that age may have meant I had a few grey hairs, more than my share of wrinkles and creaky bones where I didn’t know I had bones, but it also brought a great gift.
Take a deep breath and submit…
It was the gift of self-confidence. I believe it’s one of the greatest benefits of middle age. I pitched an article to a national magazine and for the first time in my life wasn’t crippled with self-doubt. I had reached an age where I decided that if they accepted the pitch, the editor probably wouldn’t fall about laughing at my ineptitude when he received the full article. But best of all, I really wouldn’t be defeated if he did. I would learn from rejection, I would try harder next time, but I wouldn’t take it personally.
They accepted that first article and more followed. They published me in a few national magazines and online. But then came divorce, disruption and there’s no doubt, it’s tough out there. A twenty–two year marriage ending knocked my confidence dramatically, and I simply didn’t have the energy to enter the arena any more. Impostor syndrome loomed over me like the grim reaper on a day off, taunting me with the fact that I had failed at something as major as marriage.
A tough year or two followed. I had to move house, lost one of my dogs and then just after the house move my father died.
But then, life can spring surprises, you know? A few things went my way. I felt like my old self—better than my old self because it was just me and my son now and I loved that it was me doing my best for him and it was us against the world. Perhaps it was because I felt strong and happy once more, enough that I didn’t feel I needed anyone or anything, that I met someone. Life got even better, and the joie de vivre and energy I’d seen little of since my twenties returned.
So here I am, closer to sixty than fifty, revising and editing the book I’ve wanted to write for a very long time.
The move into fiction
Is it scary? Yes, it absolutely is. Am I so sure of myself that I think I can’t fail? Far from it. Who knows how it will be received? Of course I want to get representation, I want to the book published and to get five star reviews and I want emails asking when the next book is due. But there are no guarantees. I’m writing a book I would like to read, and maybe no one else will be interested.
All I can do now is work my hardest, continue to stress over every chapter, paragraph, sentence and word. Carry on waking up in the middle of the night because I’m not sure if there’s a gaping plot hole at the end of the scene I’d written that afternoon.
So yes, totally scary with no guaranteed success. But I plan to keep going because I love what I’m doing and although there are days when the words don’t seem to flow so well, on the days when they do flow and I write a scene that’s almost musical, when I read back a description that makes me smile, it’s all worth it.
So in summary, if you think your age is against you when considering writing your first novel in your fifties, consider the following;
Don’t believe the lie that you’re ‘too old’. Writing is one of the few things that I think improves with age. All those experiences you’ve had, the feelings and events that have left their mark on you and moulded the person you are, are solid gold to the writer. Use them.
Listen to criticism, learn from it, improve. But use your maturity to sort the wheat from the chaff. You’ll know in your heart and soul when someone is offering their informed point of view to help you, and you’ll also detect the bitter twang of an idle put down. This is all someone’s opinion remember, we all see reviews online that make us think the reviewer must have read a different book to the one we read, but it’s simply a matter of taste. Balance my friend, balance.
Final thoughts
It’s scary, but sometimes being scared is good. We are allegedly in the ‘Autumn Years,’ or so I keep being told. But the sun most definitely hasn’t gone in yet and I’m going to be out there, making the most of every day. Among the things I want to do is write, so that’s what I’m doing. Maybe you should too.
©Liv Andrews 2020