The Youngest in the Room
Posted by Anne
“Am I in the right place?” I ask.
“Well, are you a writer?” she replies. The instructor is perky and petite, with bright eyes and a blond bob.
“Uh, well, I don’t know. Not really. Maybe? We’ll see,” I respond, already making an ass of myself.
This is how my weekend writing workshop began. On this blog, I tell my stories, and the stories of my Life in Pencil triumphs and failures. But I crave the opportunity to tell other stories too—fictional stories. And more specifically, the stories that involve people ages 14 to 19. And so I signed up for a 2-day workshop focused on Young Adult fiction, when I’ve never written much more than a few (highly autobiographical) short stories. Yet there I was, fanatically taking notes on a craft I want to call my own.
In typical fashion, I was the first to arrive, which gave me time to watch my fellow workshop attendees file into the room. We met at a small, funky manufactured home on the outskirts of the city, with coffee and an impressive array of fattening muffins for our consumption. A balding man in his 60’s(?) asked to borrow a pen. A couple of people talked about health issues—weight loss, cancer, and ailing spouses. Another woman began joking about her inability to operate her cell phone. It didn’t take long to realize I would be the only 30-year-old at this workshop. As is so often the case in my life, I was the youngest in the room.
It didn’t surprise me. I’m accustomed to being the youngest person in a room. I often joke about ending up in these situations—all of which are of my own choosing. My women’s fly-fishing club. Community cooking classes. Church retreats. Where, exactly, are the women my age? It’s always been a mystery to me.
Nevertheless, I settled into my chair, and carefully penciled Young Adult Workshop, Day 1 at the top of my legal pad. And I listened as the folks around me introduced themselves, stating their reason for attendance. They ALL described fairly active writing lives, and I immediately felt inadequate. I stared at the blank lines of my legal pad, wondering how on earth to describe my purpose there. Well, you see, I love to write and have always dreamed of writing fiction, and have an age-inappropriate affection for teenage books and films. So here I am. I imagined this off-beat group of writers staring right back at me, perplexed by my lack of focus.
But, as is often the case, first impressions aren’t everything. Sure, some of the participants had written entire books—but some had not. And nobody seemed quite as passionate about writing for teenagers as I did. Few (if any?) of them said they wrote for a living. None seemed to have majored in creative writing, journalism, or communications in college. But they were there—engaged and enthusiastic, calling themselves “writers”, and showing me great kindness. I munched my banana nut muffin and recited the clichéd phrase in my head, “It’s never too late to pursue a passion.” And then I scanned the room again and decided…But I don’t want to wait THAT long.
On a recent telephone conversation with my sister, I bemoaned the fact that I hadn’t pursued my love of writing much earlier in life. And she, so wise and so blessedly blunt, said, “Anne—you’re 30. It’s not like your ship has sailed. You can still write.” The truth of this statement came charging back at me during that two-day workshop. Something gave those people in my workshop the courage to call themselves writers. A sister, a mentor, or simply the growing need to rewrite a part of their own lives. That realization may have hit them 5 years ago, or 5 months ago. It didn’t matter. They were writing.
Whatever our reason for being there, it was endearing to see all of us—age 30 or age 60—spending 2 days discussing how to reach 15-year-olds through our writing. We talked character, voice, and plot. We scribbled novel premises, chugged coffee, and tried to unravel the secret to Twilight’s success. And very soon, my age was irrelevant. I may have been the youngest in the room, but my goals were no different.
My ship hasn’t sailed, and neither has theirs.
Do you run into this experience in your extra-curricular activities? Are you the youngest? If you write, when is it okay to call yourself a writer?
June 2nd, 2010 at 6:02 am
Indeed, it’s never too late – and this post is a great reminder.
I have trouble calling myself a writer. Well, simply because I haven’t really written anything per se. Just my blog. And the numerous marketing collateral for my job but “a writer” does not seem to fit me. Maybe because with that label comes certain expectations – of success, of mastery – and I know I’m not there yet, even though that’s all I’ve been doing and want to do.
And so here I am, in my thirties, calling what I do writing, but never myself a writer. I need to get over it. Make that leap someday. Be bold. Be a writer.
June 2nd, 2010 at 7:24 am
This post really spoke to me this morning for some reason… I am 28 and a member of a running group in which I am the youngest by 10+ years (depending on the day and who shows up to the run, sometimes by 30+ years). Sometimes, when I really think about it, I wonder what this means. Does it mean that I’m not a very fast runner (that’s true), that I don’t make friends as easily with people of my own age (not really true)? Truth be told, though, these thought processes always end at the same place: I consider these people some of my closest friends. They have enriched my life in more ways that I can express, through their advice, listening, and recounting of their own life experiences. So, what does it matter that I spend my Saturday mornings with people twice my age? We have so much more in common than we do differences and I am lucky to have them!
June 2nd, 2010 at 7:57 am
I, too, often find myself the youngest in the room (curse of the old soul), especially at movies and restaurants. What can I say: my tastes skew twice my age? And yet, I, too, bemoan the fact that I didn’t start writing earlier. But, I finally reached the conclusion that, while I have long wanted to write, I didn’t NEED to write. The need had to supersede the desire for me to start, and maybe it’s the same with you, too. I’m glad you took the plunge in a manufactured home.
June 2nd, 2010 at 8:27 am
Ugh, I’ve hated being the youngest in my room throughout my 20s. Now I’m getting over that, and also have coworkers who are about the same age as me now. But I hated having to prove myself, having to combat assumptions about what 20-somethings are like.
Your sister is right. 30 is young! And there are plenty of stories where very successful entrepreneurs and writers didn’t come into their own until mid-life. Everything comes together in its own time.
Kudos on taking the leap with this two-day workshop!!
June 2nd, 2010 at 9:25 am
Wow, your sister is brilliant!
Seriously, though, I’m so glad that your experience at the workshop was a success. I too am heartened by the fact that so many of your fellow students were older – pursuing their passion regardless of their age or current career path. It is never too late to follow your passion.
And remember, Julia Child was more than 40 years old when she first took a cooking class!
June 3rd, 2010 at 6:17 am
As a junior high student who chose to volunteer in a nursing home, I was truly the youngest person in the room – er, building. I was always fascinated by the stories and experiences of old folks. None of my friends could relate – I’m sure they thought I was deeply weird. At 24, I felt too old to use the new slang word “awesome.” I still don’t use it, even though it obviously caught on and became part of the common parlance. At 32, I remember feeling left behind by my friends who were making fortunes in NYC while I lived a humble existence and took care of a baby. I needed your sister to tell me I was still young myself. As Elizabeth says, maybe we’re old souls and we just have always skewed older. At least when I’m in the nursing home, I’ll be interested in the stories of my fellow inmates!
It’s great that you’re actively pursuing your goals. Cross “Workshop” off your list!
June 3rd, 2010 at 9:14 am
I came back to this today and just have to laugh that all these authors writing young adult fiction are so old. What does that say?? It takes decades to process your teen years?
June 3rd, 2010 at 10:01 am
Eva–it’s funny you mention that. Several of the people there said they were afraid they couldn’t write for teens because their children were long past the teenage years! The instructor said, “Were you ever a teenager? Then you can write for teens.” But maybe a certain level of distance is needed…too traumatic otherwise!