You Go, Grandma!

Every once in a while, I ask myself what in the h-e-double-hockey-sticks I think I’m doing. Writing novels in my spare time. Starting another one. At my age. Seriously?

I must be nuts.

Times like that, I’m tempted to pack it in. Spend the weekend with a nice NCIS marathon. While away the evenings calculating my pension or reviewing my pitifully small Roth IRA. Anything, as long as it doesn’t involve wrestling with the Muse, pounding a keyboard, butting heads with writer’s block, or gnawing my Signature nails as I wait to hear from the next agent on the list.

What sexagenarian in her right mind decides to re-enter the fray? Chain herself to the keyboard and release her inner novelist (a child, not particularly well adjusted)? Sure, writing is in my blood. (We won’t mention what’s in my joints.) But still ….

I must be nuts, right?

Okay, let’s be charitable and go with “adorably eccentric.” Next thing you know, I’ll be smoking cigarillos, wearing purple, and adopting a cat … or ten. Maybe I’ll let the mustache grow.

So, yeah. The age thing gets to me sometimes. The gray hair and “laugh lines” (hah hah). The hot flashes. The fact that I’m starting to move like the Tin Man sans oil can when I get up in the morning.

Thankfully, whenever I’m tempted to take up knitting, I remember Grandma Moses. My hero(ine).

Started painting at 70, and before long her exhibitions were breaking attendance records all over the world. She was named Mademoiselle’s “Young Woman of the Year” at 88! Eighty-eight! Septuagenarian morphs into cultural icon. And she lived to be 101.

Please note: I don’t aspire to cultural icon. (A true introvert, I would rather eat ground glass than live in the public eye.) All I want to do is tell stories, preferably to someone besides myself. You know … readers. But even if I build it and they don’t come, I won’t stop writing. Won’t let Grandma down.

Then again, if Anna Mary Robertson could kick-start her art when the snow was on the roof, so can I. It could happen. Stranger things have.

So … watch for me in Mademoiselle.

By cracky.


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