Guest post by author Ron Walters
Ron Walters is a former journalist, college registrar, and stay-at-home dad who writes science fiction and fantasy for all ages. A native of Savannah, GA, he currently lives in Germany with his wife, two daughters, and two rescue dogs. When he’s not writing he works as a substitute high school teacher, plays video games, and does his best to ignore the judgmental looks his dogs give him for not walking them more often. Deep Dive is his debut novel.
I don’t feel old.
Biologically speaking I’m 44, but most days my brain still thinks I’m in my early 20s even when my lower back disagrees. In general, though, my age isn’t really something I worry about all that often. The only time it ever becomes A Thing is when I start musing on the fact that I’ve only just now become a published author.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m deliriously happy that Deep Dive is officially out in the world, and I cannot wait to see where it and I go from here. I do, however, feel like something of an outlier in the book community, because based on the totally subjective, completely unscientific research I’ve done watching book deal announcements on Twitter for the past ten years, debuting in my 40s isn’t exactly the norm.
Google seems to support this theory. All the articles about famous writers who “started late” and whose first books came out when they were around my age tend to list the same dozen or so people, including J. R. R. Tolkien, Toni Morrison, Raymond Chandler, Annie Proulx, and Anthony Burgess. On top of that, there are also plenty of derisive opinion pieces that claim good writing can only be crafted by authors in their mid-20s.
There’s no doubt that younger debuts radiate a sort of fresh mystique that conjures words like prodigy and wunderkind. The same, sadly, isn’t true for so-called late-bloomers. Yes, we’re often lauded for our tenacity and perseverance, but that sentiment sometimes feels like it’s bookended by an unspoken question. Namely, why did it take us so long?
Conversely, author Mary Ann Marlowe (Some Kind of Magic, Dating by the Book, Kind of Famous) offered up this perspective when I asked about her feelings on debuting later in life: “Young people often lament that they’re running out of time to make their mark, but who decided there’s a time limit? Many older writers were pursuing entirely different goals in their youth, and writing was still there when we got around to it. We get older whether or not we chase our dreams, and age is just a construct. Ignore the clock and write.”
I for one still have a hard time ignoring that clock, but there’s truth in her words. I didn’t grow up wanting to be a novelist. I had an aptitude for writing that scored me a gig as a reporter at the local newspaper when I was fresh out of college, and I dabbled in overwrought short stories off and on through my 20s, but I don’t remember wanting to try my hand at a book back then. The desire must have been there, though, buried deep in my subconscious, because shortly after I hit my 30s I finally sat down and wrote my first novel.
A book deal, however, was still a long-time coming. While I’m inordinately proud of Deep Dive and what it represents, even now, with my first publishing contract firmly in the bag, it can still be moderately dispiriting watching someone half my age announce their debut novel. It’s a major accomplishment regardless of when it happens, and I truly am happy for anyone who achieves it, but seeing all those deal announcements reminds me of all the years they have ahead of them just to reach the age I’m at now. Which makes me wonder: If I’d started writing in my 20s, would I have scored a book deal sooner?
Maybe, maybe not. I’m not sure I had the wherewithal back then to figure out how to handle the responsibilities that come with getting published while simultaneously juggling everything else I had going on in my life. The rejections for sure would’ve crushed me to a pulp. New York Times bestseller Elly Blake, author of the Frostblood series, feels the same. “I’d daydreamed about becoming an author from the time I was 14,” she told me, “but I didn’t have the drive and dedication to face the slings and arrows of chasing publication until I was in my late 30s. At the time, I might have felt like I was late to the party, but in retrospect I’m glad I didn’t debut until I was over 40. When I was younger, I simply didn’t have the sense of self to be able to deal with rejection and criticism that every author has to face.”
Other authors I spoke to have similar outlooks. “With maturity (I use that term loosely), comes thicker skin and more realistic expectations,” said Kelly Siskind, author of the Showmen and Over the Top series. “I think older authors realize there’s more to life than writing and are able to take the setbacks and pitfalls, inherent to the job, in stride.”
This is certainly true for me. While writing has its struggles no matter one’s age, I’m better equipped to roll with the punches now. I’ve also experienced more, which isn’t necessarily a requirement when it comes to writing, but it definitely helps when it comes to generating ideas and themes. Kristin Wright, author of The Darkest Flower and The Darkest Web, agrees. “Before 40,” she said, “I had neither the time nor the skill to write anything worthwhile. After 40, I had years of life experience—personality quirks I’d seen, conflicts I’d dealt with, places I’d been—to mine for details. I’m glad I waited. My writing is better for it.”
In the end, maybe I’m okay with taking so long to get published. As contradictory as it sounds, and as frustrated as I felt watching the younger crowd pass me by, I might actually be glad I started late and debuted when I did. It gave me the opportunity to learn how to be a writer and an adult without the added baggage of having to navigate all the instability and uncertainty that life delighted in throwing at me during my younger days.
Regardless, the fact remains that I am a published author now, and despite my advanced years, I fully plan on doing everything in my power to make up for all the time I may or may not have lost. Fingers crossed I don’t throw my back out in the process.
