Among the featured writers is Charles Chadwick, about to be published for the first time at the age of 72 (which makes me feel like a spring chicken and full of spring hopefulness). He talks about how he kept on writing even when it did not look as if he would ever see his work in print. For him, the love of writing was an end in itself :
So why go on writing with little or no hope of publication? Svevo once said: 'Write what one must. What one needn't do is publish.' Is it that one has to learn to do it for its own sake? There's nothing odd, and certainly now in the least heroically tenacious, about that. There are millions of people out there who weave tapestry, make furniture and pots, write poetry, paint watercolours because that is what they enjoy doing and want to get better at. The creative imagination seems to have a life and persistence of its own. Another imperative is to take trouble to do things properly. When you see someone having a shot at painting a few houses and trees and clouds or whatever, you don't feel like tapping them on the shoulder and saying: 'Why bother with all that detail; you'll only shove it away in your garage or give it to Uncle Frank and Aunt Ethel who won't know the difference?'Amen to that!
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And Marina Lewycka on the same list is 58. So there is hope for us yet, Sharon!
But how will we look going up to collect our Booker Prize when we no longer have teeth and need a zimmerframe to get around?
We'll put on the dentures that we only wear for special functions such as the Booker Prize. And with our zimmerframes, we'll give hope to other yet-to-be-published writers, lah. And of course, we'll be there to help each other get on stage, no? That's what this is all about - writers helping writers.
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