Older, Wiser – More Banal?

So another year has come and gone, and I turned 26 on Sunday.  Now, I’m not one of those women who get anxious about each coming year, worrying about visible effects of aging – although at 26 I’d be anxious to discover any at all! – no, what worries me is that the older I get the more banal my career as a writer becomes.

I was a precocious child, always reading beyond my age level and as a writer I enjoyed that it gave me access to higher levels of vocabulary, subject matter and depth in even the sillier pieces I wrote as a teenager.  I decided that my goal in life was to become a published author by age 16.

Needless to say that didn’t happen.  As I got older I kept moving that significant age; if I couldn’t be published at 16 then maybe 18, 21, 25.  Now I’m 26, and I find that I’m on the wrong side of my twenties to maintain these milestones.  Who cares if a 30 year old gets published?  It’s banal and unremarkable.

So I’m trying to convince myself it doesn’t matter, which obviously it doesn’t in the real scheme of things.  In terms of the big picture, it’s the writing itself that is important, blah blah, yes I know.  But you tell that to the 16 year  old who was determined to be a published author and wanted to stand next to her idols, authors three times her age, with her chin up going, “Ha!  I’m as good as you!”  She’d have kicked your face in, and with the kind of massive gothic boots I used to wear back then you would have been lucky to escape with your life.

In hindsight, however, I wasn’t as good as the published authors I idolised.  My writing at 16 read pretty much exactly like the writing of a 16 year old, albeit a very smart 16 year old, I’ll give myself that.   And I know I’d rather be a good writer than merely a young writer, only published for the novelty of age than for the quality of the writing (coughcoughchristopherpaolinicoughcough).

But it still feels like with every passing year I get older, wiser – and more banal.

Happy birthday to me!

(20)11 Is One Of My Favourite Numbers

And thus I should take the time to consider a New Year’s Resolution.  I don’t usually bother, reminding myself that New Year’s Eve/Day doesn’t really mean much when the Gregorian calendar we follow today is an arbitrary system of measuring time.  Why not just pick any random day to start a new venture, turn over a new leaf, etc., when New Years itself is a random day?

Except that as humans we like to place importance on these arbitrary things and are more likely to stick to something in such a case.

So having said all of that, I do think I’ll make a concerted effort to do something worthwhile during this coming orbit of the Earth circling the Sun.  Ideally, I’d like to have a publisher-ready manuscript prepared.  But maybe I’ll go a step even further:

By January 1st, 2012, I’ll actually send a manuscript to a publisher.

So I’ve got 365 days to do this, and do it properly.  And 11 really is one of my favourite numbers – 2011 let’s get cracking!