by Shelt Garner
@sheltgarner
I’ve always been a late bloomer and working on a novel is no different. I’m now zooming towards my 50th birthday as I struggle with my first novel. The novel’s second draft has gotten much, much better even though I am writing it in a creative vacuum.
As part of a broader bout of existential angst on turning 50, I find myself fear that my age, unto itself, will be the reason why I can’t get traditionally published and will have to turn to self-publishing. While self-publishing is a totally valid option, it’s just not my vision for this novel.
I have a huge chip on my shoulder about my writing and I want to prove to the haters that despite being a big old loser for way too long, I can write a novel good enough that it gets past the gatekeepers of the traditional publishing route.
I have very high standards for myself and I’ve only managed to get as far as I have because I have set such a high standard for myself — getting traditionally published. It’s just I’ve been drifting towards this goal and my age has kind of snuck up on me. If I had a wife or girlfriend, then maybe I wouldn’t be in this shitty situation.
But, alas, I just don’t. And so, here I am, almost 50 having to manage my expectations about the fate of this novel. I have to accept that even if I stick the landing, I could be in my mid-50s before this novel comes out. That really changes things to some extent because if I manage to become rich and famous because I’ve written a breakout first novel…I’m going to be a fucking old man when it happens.
So, it’s not like I can run around New York City with a bunch of 24 year olds discovering the city and life for the first time. All my peers will be married empty nesters thinking about retirement. So, if I turn into the next fucking Tom Wolfe I’m going to have, in real terms, a very brief moment to enjoy that success. And all my female peers will be too old too have children and if they’re single — probably too bitter to get married to some rando like me who has suddenly found success late in life.
In short, everything sucks. I’m too fucking old and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I just have to process the reality of the situation and keep believing in myself.
