Age is a Superpower
In nineteenth century France, printers would create generic casts or blocks of frequently used words and phrases, which they could employ over and over, avoiding the need to reset the type each time. In some cases, those blocks were called stereotypes, but the most common name was a cliché.
Nearly two hundred years later, we writers are still surrounded by clichés. Here are a few of the most common:
The English teacher who inspired you. Mine was Jim McNaught Davis, who grappled pupils in my rowdy 1980s comprehensive. I wanted to be a marine biologist (blame Jacques Cousteau), but JMD’s lessons were my favourite. He encouraged us, he made us laugh, he philosophised. He shouted quite a lot, but mostly, he inspired in us a love of words.
The procrastination of writers. Ah yes, it’s a thing. And not just for you and me – Joanne Harris claims to have an advanced degree in it. Work, kids, chores, life gets in the way every day. Though for some of us, procrastination can last for years. While I didn’t become a marine biologist, I did keep writing, all through my career: speeches, book chapters, articles for publication, web content. But I put off writing for myself, thinking I’ll do that later. And the more time that passed, the further down the road I kicked the can.
The people who say ‘I needed [insert life changing event] to get me to [insert thing they’ve always wanted to do].’ Well, that’s me. Nice to meet you. My event was in 2019, when a surgeon told me I had about an hour to live, before doing a bunch of indescribable things to me. (I literally can’t describe them, the anaesthetist did a great job, but I know a bone saw was involved.) And in those long days of recovery, I discovered that, during surgery, something unexpected had been removed. The thing stopping me from writing.
Even before I was discharged from hospital, I began writing the story that had been inside me for years, then another. I described memories I’d never before captured, I started two screenplays. In 2020, I was lucky enough to join the Curtis Brown Writing for Children and YA course under the tutelage of the incredible Catherine Johnson. I finally stopped procrastinating, and now the more I write, the more I learn; and the more I learn, the more I write.
But here’s the thing. I’m fifty-five, and I feel like I’ve only just discovered what I want to do. That’s exciting, right? I know what I want to do! But at the same time, It’s really hard to not regret starting so late. My craft is far from perfect, and I know I don’t have a lifetime to hone it, to explore different writing styles and genres. Don’t get me started on imposter syndrome. For so many of us, it sneaks up and taps us on the shoulder, and gives us that look that makes us question what we’re doing, reminds us no one gave us permission to be here. News of other writers’ achievements abounds, and encourages us to measure success in prizes, full read requests, agent signings and publisher auctions.
It can be a lot, though it would be immeasurably harder without the support and motivation and insight of our writing groups, the Force (which is strong) within this WriteMentor family, and the generosity and honesty of the wider writing community. These amazing people are what keeps many of us focused when we’re alone in our thoughts and stuck between those black words on white pages, or when we’re taking another hit in the query trenches. We rely on their advice, their friendship and kindness, we learn from them. And one of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that everyone has their own reasons for writing, and their own things that conspire to stop them.
So, every day I gently remind myself it’s me I’m writing for. Every day I push myself to channel satisfaction instead of regret, to celebrate every success, however tiny. And most of all, to try and think not of the number of years that have passed, but how much experience has been built along the way, how much perspective gained. With time, we encounter more people and situations, for better or worse. We read more, we build more knowledge (though it’s true we forget stuff), and dare I say some wisdom. Our intuition becomes sharper, as we amass reserves of understanding and context on which we can draw, like an emotional ATM. We suffer more loss, we witness more tragedy and, hopefully, more comedy. And whether it's obvious or implied, all these things find a way into our words.
So, age is not an obstacle. It’s a superpower. And If I were a typesetter, that’s the cliché I’d create first.