When people ask me what I'm doing, I always hesitate. Not because I'm embarrassed about writing a novel, but because I don't want to see the eye-roll or hear the fake "That's nice" response. I know what's going through their heads. They think that a woman who is starting on her first novel while in her late forties has:
- way too much time on her hands and needs to get a job
- totally lost her mind and shouldn't have quit her job/retired
- empty-nest syndrome
- turned into a strange, artsy creature who will next peddle macramé plant holders at the local farmers' market.
Well, it's not a female mid-life crisis. It's a celebration. Because I finally have the time and freedom to express myself. For too many years I played a role in a very long act of the play of my life. It was difficult, and many times it forced me to be a person I hated to look at in the mirror. I have taken my curtain call. I am free to let my creative nature rule my actions.
I cannot wait to see where the second act takes me.