There’s a song whose title I don’t remember, but some of the lyrics go “Funny, how time slips away.”
Those words haunt me because, as a writer on the older side, time has slipped away. While I thought I had all these tomorrows to polish a novel or begin a new one, or learn about modern technology, or read those articles about today’s publishing changes, time just marched right up the road and left me behind at the crossroads of Dilly and Dally. Now I have to decide whether to catch up and get something done or give up and spend wasted hours wishing I’d been more productive in my younger years.
So I’ll catch up. The need to write is still strong and I believe writers are writers, wherever they rest on the age scale. I also believe writers write. They apply what they know, and learn what they need to know, whether they’re sixty, seventy, eighty, or beyond.
Of course, for us, the matter of marching time is a great motivator. We need to spend the words inside us. To that point, it’s a fact that older writers have a lot to say. Maybe it’s just to tell others how it feels to be on the upper side of life, so they might be encouraged. Maybe it’s that right now is the right time to write that family saga or fantasy novel. Past non-productive years shouldn’t matter any more. Today and tomorrow do count.
Time does slip away. And it is finite.