As 50 Looms

I am 47 years old.  My 50th birthday will mark ten years of working seriously on my writing the way a professional should.  I have come a long way since my late 30s.  But as 50 looms, it seems to demand a big, landmark-type oath of some sort.

I am always leery of goals I cannot control.  I cannot force an agent to sign me or a publisher to buy my book.  However, if I am honest with myself, I know that's what I want.  I don't want to reach my 50th birthday still struggling and querying and hoping and clinging to the barest scraps of encouragement.  Not after ten years.  Not as I round the half-century mark of my life.  I want to stand before the world and say, "My goal is to have an agent or a book deal or both by the time I'm 50."  Such a statement terrifies me, fraught as it is with the potential for failure, riddled as it is with elements beyond my control.

I'm doing what I'm supposed to do to get there. Writing regularly.  Participating in a  critique group.  Attending conferences.  Building my digital platform.  Submitting my work.  But as 50 looms, I feel I should redouble my efforts somehow.

I have one finished novel and a bunch of short stories.  I've even sold some of those shorts.  I have a second novel that is finished but needing revision, which I'm working on diligently.  I have a third novel that has resisted the completion of a decent draft but keeps pulling at me.  And the rest of my life, my teaching job, my family, my other interests, they pull at me, too.

I really only have two and half years to go until I turn 50.  30 months.  30 months to, as my critique group puts it, "query the hell out of" my first novel, and finish revising the second one, and finish the third one.  But mostly, query the hell out of the first one, because without the queries and the pitches, that elusive agent/book deal will never, ever, ever happen.  Which would leave me with self-publishing, a possibility I have considered and rejected more times than I can count, and know I will revisit again before I hit that half-century milestone.

And then what?  If I haven't reached those goals by the time I reach the big 5-0, what then?  I don't imagine I will quit writing.  I can't help myself.  But I can't imagine just plodding on and on the same way, Sisyphus rolling the boulder up the hill over and over again indefinitely.

Ah, soul-searching.  The older you get, the more loaded it gets.

Is the Hard Work Worth It?

Doug and Wendy Whiner are in the house lately.  Well, they're in my brain, anyway, cutting loose with a chorus of "This is HAAAAARD!"  Normally, I try to make this blog have some sort of redeeming value.  I put thought into it and try to make it relevant to the writing craft and the writing experience.  And I try to post once a week.  Well, this week, I failed.  I also try not to post about lame excuses and whine about why I can't keep up with my writing goals.  I'm not interested in blogs that do that, so I assume you aren't interested in that either.

But this week, I have waded into an unproductive swamp.  And all I can think of to say about the craft is "Writing is HAAAAARD!  WAHHHH!"  My drill sergeant self says, "Get over yourself, get off your duff and out of bed and sit down and do it, damn it!  Quit bellyaching!  Of course it's hard!  Anything worth doing is hard!  So what?"  Funny thing.  That drill sergeant voice doesn't seem to be doing the trick.  But it's right, you know.  Writing is hard.  And so what?  Perhaps the question is, is the hard work worth it?  And worth it by what criteria?

On the other hand, "Is the hard work worth it?" seems like the wrong question.  It's not like I'm suddenly going to stop wanting to write stories or express experiences and thoughts through the written word.  That's always there.  It's part of me.  The question is whether I am willing to do the hard work required to take it to the next level.  Is that worth it?  That's a task that goes beyond the joyful creation of stories.  That's a task that requires longterm commitment and determination and slogging through those swampy areas and sticking your neck out and getting knocked down and failing over and over and over again.  It takes patience and focus and a tough hide.

Still, that question "Is it worth it?" doesn't seem to fit.  "Am I ready to give up?" might be more to the point.  That's the bottom line, isn't it?  Am I ready to give up on this larger notion of writing novels and submitting novels and finding an agent and a publisher?  That's the bottom line.  Am I willing to give up on that because it's "TOO HAAAARD!"  Nope.  Nope.  Not yet.  Drill sergeant wins.

What about you?  Is the hard work worth it?  Worth it by what criteria?  Are you ready to give up?  What keeps you going?