Finding Direction in an Open Horizon
I was around 25 years old when I started pursuing writing for publication. Once I latched onto that dream, I didn’t feel the need for any other dreams. My husband and I never wanted kids, I had no other career ambitions, no other sense of calling. So I spent the next 27 years on that.
There was other life, of course. Moving, death, jobs, personal growth and loss. But my sights were set on learning how to write novels and make them good enough to publish. When they got good enough, then began the 17 years of being on the publishing cycle: writing, contracts, more writing, book releases, book promotion and “being an author,” and back to the writing, contracts, more writing.
Yesterday morning, I turned in what is essentially the final draft of my last contracted book. (There’s a little more work left, but it’s the downhill part of the switchback where you can almost see the parking lot.) I love this book. But soon I’ll be saying goodbye to it.
A peer recently said, “I feel like you’ve been teasing quitting for a while,” meaning quitting writing. I laughed because I can see why she thinks that I mean…
… On This Creative Life, I’ve been talking to people about pivots and reinventions, and making a point of saying to anyone who needs to hear it that it’s okay to not be a writer if it’s not giving what it used to or the pursuit is making you miserable.
… I wrote the This Creative Life book in part to collect thoughts from all the talks I’ve given over the years and get them organized and published, in case I’m never asked to speak again.
… I’ve stepped back from being “in the conversation” online and am much happier for it.
All of that said, I’m not planning to quit writing. I’ve actually tried it before, and it doesn’t stick.
But there’s no question a pivot is going to happen. I’m 52 and have a whole different set of concerns and experiences than I did when I started. I’ve changed, the business has changed, the market has changed, the world has changed. And I’m not going to rush into the next steps before I think carefully about what 52-year-old me wants to speak into this changed landscape, and how.
There are other concerns for the 52-year-old me, such as thinking about aging loved ones and how and where my husband and I might be needed, how we ourselves might need, and the matter of tending to my own aging corporeal form. (I am recently very aware of this. I did survive COVID-19 in January, thanks in part to Paxlovid, but suddenly I’m at this age where it feels like anything can happen.)
In a 17-page journal entry I wrote at the beginning of the year, the phrase that jumps out at me is “values supported by actions.” I have a window before me now of considering what I value and how action can support that, vs. continuing on in a pattern just because it’s there.
I’m excited, but also overwhelmed. The thing about meeting a big deadline is the “after” part, when it’s time to actually do and change all the things I said I was going to do and change “when the book is done.”
I’ve been in a “when the book is done” cycle for a couple of decades. And if I’m lucky, there will be more “when the book is done” seasons ahead. But there’s life outside that cycle, too, and that’s what I want to be present for now.
Will being present for that guarantee I’ll get clarity? If past experience is any teacher, the answer is “not likely,” and I don’t want to depend on clarity. Sometimes one does simply need to put one foot in front of the other, or as people in recovery say, “do the next right thing.” (Yes, it was an AA thing before it was a Frozen lyric!)
Whatever happens next, I feel lucky to have been where I’ve been and be where I am.
Fight the Power: How Hip Hop Changed the World on PBS is great. Episode 2 airs tonight, but you can also catch it on the PBS app or site I think. If you watched the Grammys and saw all those folks coming out to mark 50 years of hip hop, you got a taste of what the show covers.
In a not dissimilar vein, Rumble: the Indians Who Rocked the World is a 2017 documentary now on Netflix that should fascinate any lover of popular music.
Speaking of being in your 50s, this piece on menopause and how the medical establishment has (and hasn’t dealt with it) is interesting and helpful.
Really smart to be thinking of this now. I di a lot of short story writing in my 20's and 30's, but didn't get to novels until in my 50s. After 9 adult novels, 3 YA novels, and now shopping the first book in new Upper MG series, I've been wandering for about a year asking myself how can I make this work with the reality of my life for the next five to ten years?
I'm 69, with medical and financial responsibility for my mother, a sister, and a brother. I've moved them all near me, within 15 minutes of my home so I can physically visit, take them to medical appointments, and keep me and them in the loop. Also, with publishing changes that focus on new releases, I'm making less money on my backlist. So have taken a PT job to stabilize my income.
Writing is my love, and my primary creative expression. However, with all that is going on it has been very hard to prioritize it. So far, the conclusion I've come to is it is highly likely I can only do one book a year (maybe 1-1/2). In the first 6 years of my career I managed three a year. Then I dropped to two a year, and spent more time in getting out related products (i.e., audiobooks). Last year I only wrote one. I had three on my schedule for this year, but realistically it won't happen.
I simultaneously feel lost and relieved to be realistic about my output. I'll be following what you decide will work for you. Thanks for sharing honestly.
This is so good, Sara. I've been in that same "when the book is done" cycle for years too, and I'm exhausted (probably because I have a July 1st deadline looming ;)). It's not the book writing that exhausts me so much as it is the after-the-book-is-done and how much I dread it while writing the book itself. I'm always interested in how to change that abrupt shift we writers seem to have to make from secreting ourselves while we write, to (sometimes) exploiting ourselves to sell the book we just wrote.