December 30, 2020
New Year’s Eve, 2020, has been a sort of “life deadline” to me for the last, oh, 30 years or so.
I had a plan, see? By 50, I would have done X, Y, and sure why not? Z.
Unfortunately, things haven’t gone as planned. 40s me sorta blames 30s me for a slew of dumb moves that slowed my progress. But look, truth be told? 40s me started a little rough out of the gate as well. Which is why it doesn’t pay to play the blame game. The regret game. Because sometimes those massive missteps are the genesis of huge wins. So yeah, sometimes you do need two steps back to take a step forward. It figures the board would be set up that way, doesn’t it?
So, with hours to spare here, let’s review: Did I achieve my goals? Hit my targets? Make my deadline?
The short answer? No. I did not.
That said, some interesting things happened along the way. Not sure how you’d quantify them…
Surprise goals? Unforeseen wins? Happy accidents?
Okay, so I didn’t publish a novel before 50. But I wrote a bunch - six, to be exact, and counting. (And no, I don’t count the novel I self-published 20 years ago. Although part of me thinks I should). And I did publish a story collection, so that sorta counts? And hey, I figured a way to scratch out a side career peddling short genre fiction, which is neat. So there’s some plusses, I guess.
But no, 20-year-old me. I’m not rich. Or successful. And for that I’m sorry. Truly.
BUT.
Let’s talk about those surprise goals, buddy. Let’s talk about those unforeseen wins.
For starters, I had a kid. Whoa, right? A great little kid who somehow, overnight, become an amazing, loving, adult. Also, I met a beautiful, strong, talented woman to spend my life with. We have a home with a low-interest mortgage. I have a union job and a growing pension. I’m healthy (as far as I know). I have two cats. NONE of these things were on the list!
So, yeah, okay, maybe I’m a decade behind in the long-hoped-for writing career. And yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have blown my nest egg on a bookstore that pushed me into bankruptcy and essentially stole five years of my life while I put myself back together. And yeah, fine, maybe I made some incredibly dumb decisions along the way. Maybe I’m even lucky to be alive.
Looking back on that stuff? Standing here on the edge of the 50s precipice with a cool breeze blowing against my shaved head, my bespectacled eyes? I’m proud of 30s and 40s me. Proud that I fought through those missteps. That I struggled and came through (relatively) unscathed. That I got my ass knocked down, and managed, with a lot of help and support, to get back up.
Sure, maybe I should have taken that left at Albuquerque as Bugs liked to say, but wherever this is I ended up isn’t so terrible, you know? Perhaps - just perhaps - it’s a lot nicer than where I’d been trying to get to in the first place.
So goodbye 40s, I’ll miss you. And hello 50s, come on in. Because time’s a wastin’, the bumpy road looks to be in the rearview mirror, and I have a pretty good idea of where I want to go. Better than I did when I was 20, anyway. And much better than I did when I said goodbye to my 30s a decade ago.
I’m excited about what the next chapter will bring. And heck yeah, I’m looking forward to publishing more books, writing more stories. Of course I am. But I’m also looking forward to those surprise goals. Those unforeseen wins. Because if I’ve learned anything in the last ten years, it’s this:
Those happy accidents? They’re the sweetest of them all.
So come on 50s. I’m ready. Let’s cook.
-PF