I woke up this morning only to fall in love with Robin Black. It’s hard, I know, when love catches you unawares and you’re already married.
What’s so great about young writers? Wrote Black in the NYTs. Hurrah. I am 35. Officially too old for the majors: 20 under 20 / 30 under 30. 35 year old cut off on some awards and submissions. Even a great project in South Australia at the moment, Dubinum, won’t have me, because I’m a wrinkly old woman. #sadface
We do all emerge in our own time. We have personal lives that weren’t perfect, and did not always afford us the time to write. Mine certainly didn’t.
Now, I have time. In my supposed middle age. Can’t I emerge now?
Because, if it looks the same, feels the same, and tastes the same – is it not the same? What is so great about young writers anyway? There, I’ve said it. I can’t take it back.