Writing, the Universe, and Everything

In a 2016 interview, author Toni Morrison was asked what advice she would give to young writers. She said, “Start at 40.” She had always been a big reader, she said, but she never thought about writing until she was 39.

I started this writing website just before my 42nd birthday a year ago. I love to write, but I hadn’t done much writing in my adult life. I was too busy living, working, studying, traveling, falling in love, having kids, and finding excuses.

I needed something to spur my ass into a gallop. For me, that something was the number 42.

Bear with me while I explain. The number 42 is legendary among sci-fi nerds like myself, because of Douglas Adams’ book The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (it’s hilarious; check it out). In the story, people ask supercomputer Deep Thought for the answer to “the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything!” After thinking about it for several million years, Deep Thought comes up with the answer: 42. This in turn sends everyone on another multimillion-year quest to figure out what the Ultimate Question is.

Every time I come across the number 42, even on a football uniform or a grocery receipt, it makes me smile. If you see it, and you laugh and say “42! The ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything!” and a nearby stranger smiles in recognition, you’ve made a friend.

So turning 42 was going to be special regardless. But as I approached this birthday, it occurred to me that 42 could be considered roughly a halfway point, given the average life expectancy for women (low 80s).

Shit, I thought. I’m halfway to dead! (If I’m lucky!) What will I leave behind?

I promptly had a midlife crisis. This was not a bad thing. It was terrific, actually. I got two tattoos and started writing like crazy.

The stories came pouring out. In the past year, I’ve written 78 pieces of short fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, including my first screenplay. I entered half a dozen writing contests and submitted my work to actual publications, something I’d never had the guts to do. Turning 42 was the catalyst for all of it.

Toni was right. “Write what you know” is a lot easier after you’ve racked up 40-plus years of life experience. I know what it’s like to be single, and to be married. I know what it’s like to have a great job, and to lose a job. I know good relationships, bad relationships, parenting, urban life, suburban life. I have a lot to draw on, and perspective to color it.

Like everybody, I was afraid of failure, but something inside me had reached a tipping point. Not writing at all would have been a bigger failure than writing crap. And while some of what I wrote was definitely crap, most of it I really liked.

One of my old excuses was that I didn’t have time to write. Well, middle age came along and said, “Screw that!” And then I sat at the computer every night after the kids went to bed. And I brainstormed stories every morning while walking my dog. And I joined two writing groups. And my husband added “beta reader” to his long list of talents (he’s also a dynamite chef, comedian, and dad). And writing became a habit that I never want to break.

“It’s pretty amazing what happens when you honor what’s real inside of you that you’re scared of.” This quote is from Ryan Sallans. He was talking about being transgender, but I feel the same way about embracing writing. I feel different now, better, like I’ve become the person I always knew I was. I’m more at peace with everything.

It’s too bad it took me 42 years. Or is it? Maybe 42 was the exact right age to start.

I once watched a speech by a woman who had raised her kids and then went to medical school, which she’d always wanted to do, in her fifties. People in her circle had laughed. They hinted that it was ridiculous. Her own husband told her, “By the time you get done, you’ll be 60!”

Her response was genius. “I’ll be 60 anyway,” she said. “I might as well be 60 AND a doctor!”

I am almost 43, and just today I learned that I’m getting my second piece published.

It is never too late to go for it.