I tried to resist writing this—especially after my plea against categorizing authors.  Plus, so many of us hide our age in this world of never-get-old, unearthing this information, even in our Googlized world, was difficult.

But, recently, along with the plethora of lists of writers under 40, I was faced with the declaration that, as headlined in a Guardian UK article about writers, ‘Let’s Face It, After 40 You’re Past It.”

Then I read Sam Tanenhaus opine in the New York Times that there was “an essential truth about fiction writers: They often compose their best and most lasting work when they are young. “There’s something very misleading about the literary culture that looks at writers in their 30s and calls them ‘budding’ or ‘promising,’ when in fact they’re peaking.”

Thus, in the interest not of division, but of keeping up the flagging spirits of those who don’t want to be pushed out on the ice floe until after publishing all those words jangling in their head, I present 40 0ver 40:

Paul Harding, author of Tinkers, won the 2010 Pulitzer Prize with his debut novel, published when he was 42. Robin Black, author of If I Loved You I Would Tell you this, was 48 when she debuted this year. Holly LeCraw published her debut novel The Swimming Pool at 43. Julia Glass was in her early 40s when she published Three Junes. Charles Bukowski’s first novel, Post Office, was published at 49.  James Michner’s first book, Tales of the South Pacific was published when he was forty—he went on to publish over 40 titles. Sherwood Anderson, author of Winesburg, Ohio published his first novel at the age of 40. Amy Mackinnon debuted Tethered in her 4o’s.

Henry Miller’s first published book, Tropic of Capricorn, was released when he was over forty. Tillie Olsen published Tell Me A Riddle just shy of 50. Edward P Jones was 41 when his first book Lost In The City came out. Claire Cook published her first novel at age 45. Chris Abouzied published his first novel Anatopsis at 46. Kyle Ladd was 41 when her debut, After The Fall, was published.

Lynne Griffin published her first novel, Life Without Summer at 49. Elizabeth Strout’s first novel Amy & Isabel debuted when she was 42.  MJ Rose first novel came out when she was in her mid forties. Melanie Benjamin was 42 when she debuted. Therese Fowler was forty exactly when Souvenir debuted.

Margaret Walker wrote Jubilee, her only novel at 51. Raymond Chandler debuted at 51 with The Big Sleep. Belva Plain published her first novel, Evergreen, at 50. Alex Haley published his debut novel Roots when he was 55. (His first book, the nonfiction The Autobiography of Malcolm X was published when he was in his mid-forties.) Jon Clinch debuted with Finn at age 52. In 2010 his wife Wendy Clinch published Double Black.

Also in 2010 Iris Gomez published Try To Remember in her fifties, as did Joseph Wallace with Diamond Ruby, and I published The Murderer’s Daughters at 57. Sue Monk Kidd was 54 when she debuted The Secret Life of Bees. Annie Proulx’s first novel, Postcards, was published when she was 57. Jeanne Ray published debut, Julie and Romeo in her fifties.

George Elliot’s first novel, Adam Bede, debuted when Elliot turned 50.  Isak Dineson’s first, Seven Gothic Tales came out when she turned 50.  Hallie Ephron author of Never Tell A Lie began publishing fiction after fifty. Jackie Mitchard was past 50 when The Deep End of the Ocean debuted. Richard Adams debuted with Watership Down at 52.

Laura Ingalls Wilder published her first novel (beginning the Little House series) at 65. Harriet Doerr won the National Book Award, for Stones for Ibarra, written when she was 74. Katherine Anne Porter published her only novel, Ship of Fools, at age 72. EJ Knapp just debuted Stealing The Marbles, saying “I’m so far past forty I can’t remember it anymore.” Norman McLean wrote A River Runs Through It at age 74.

When compiling this list, Ellen Meeropol asked: “Do I count? My first novel, House Arrest, will come out in February, two months before my 65th birthday.” Karen LaFreya Simpson will be 55 when her first novel Act of Grace debuts next year and Nichole Bernier will be over 44 when The Unfinished Live of Elizabeth D is published in 2012. Yes, that’s my answer, Ellen. We all count.

This is only a list of first novels. Compiling lists of bestselling, Pulitzer Prize winning, Orange Prize winning, etc. books written after the age of 40—that will take several essays.

About when I turned ten I began crafting my library checkouts, hoping I’d look smart. I’d balance my Nancy Drew with a biography of Abraham Lincoln so the librarian thought well of me. (It seems my self-esteem problem enacted early.)

Jodi Picoult, following the NYT doubled coverage of Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom, recently weighed in on the Times overwhelming coverage of white male authors. Men telling domestic stories are writing art, while women covering similar ground are crafting women’s fiction. Jennifer Weiner agreed and twitterized the issue with the hashtag #franzenfreude.

Weiner’s directness started a new frenzy, and the issue veered from Picoult’s premise to the age-old battle of literary fiction being weighed against (more…)

A Guest Post by Tayari Jones

(Randy Susan Meyers’ note: the following post,originally published on Ms. Jones blog in August, was the inspiration for my post “ReadingAcross the Racial Divide.)

In the last few years, black writers have been speaking out about double standards in the world of publishing. Among these are Martha Southgate’s NYT essay, “Writers Like Me” and more recently, Bernice’s MacFadden’s Black Writers in A Ghetto of the Publishing Industry’s Making. In these articles, both writers (who also are novelists) put into a public conversation the issues that black writers have been complaining about for years– like why is that stories about black folks that are written by white folks get so much traction. (The Help, The Secret Lives of Bees, Little Bee, etc.) How come books about us by us are not thought to be “universal”? Why are black faces on the cover of a book thought to be so alienating? At this point in the gripe session, I break out my favorite oh-no-he-didn’t moment– when someone asked me what percentage of my work is “black” and what percentage is “human.”

I have no quarrel with Southgate’s and MacFadden’s insightful observations and strident calls to action. These issues are very important and must be discussed. What I am starting to wonder is whether or not this is a battle that (more…)

“But it really happened.”

I was in an adult-ed writer’s group when I first heard this. I’d watched the woman speaking become tenser and grimmer as members of the group—gently and with compassion—suggested that the gruesome events on the page could be presented in a manner more conducive to engaging the reader.

She listened for only a few moments—sadly, this group did not have a ‘be silent while being critiqued’ policy—before unleashing, accusing the group of everything from indifference about sexual assault on children, to ignorance about how children really thought (this in response to our collective idea that 4-year-olds did not speak like 30-year-olds.) She shook as she lectured us on the horror of incest.

True that. Everything she said about her pain and suffering was true—but it still didn’t work on the page. My social services hat went on and I reacted to (more…)

I read a post on author Tayari Jones’ blog earlier this month, that hasn’t left my mind. She asks why books by black writers aren’t considered universal, starting her post with these words:

“In the last few years, black writers have been speaking out about double standards in the world of publishing. Among these are Martha Southgate’s NYT essay, “Writers Like Me” and more recently, Bernice’s MacFadden’s Black Writers in A Ghetto of the Publishing Industry’s Making. In these articles, both writers (who also are novelists) put into a public conversation the issues that black writers have been complaining about for years– like why is that stories about black folks that are written by white folks get so much traction. (The Help, The Secret Lives of Bees, Little Bee, etc.) How come books about us by us are not thought to be “universal”? Why are black faces on the cover of a book thought to be so alienating? At this point in the gripe session, I break out my favorite oh-no-he-didn’t moment– when someone asked me what percentage of my work is “black” and what percentage is “human.””

It’s not only a great post, it’s an important question for all readers and writers. For readers: you/we are missing a vast store of great books by staying within one’s cultural boundaries. We’re missing great reads, and as (more…)

Just when you think you’re done with revision, guess what? There’s room to do one more (or maybe two, or three.) The smartest thing my agent did for me recently (uh, except for selling my book) was suggesting that one more revision on my current work-in-progress would be beneficial. (Her words were a little more pointed, actually. But that’s why I love her.)

I don’t know about you, but I read books with an eye towards how well they were revised. Not just well written, but well revised, because it’s between the first flashes of imagination and the last comma switching that the magic occurs. Sometimes I think the formula is this:

More work for the writer=more pleasure for the reader.

It’s difficult  to see our own mistakes. I see this all the time when I’m writing posts. I’ll dash one off, think it’s just swell, publish it, and then cringe two weeks later when confronted with my clunky phrasing and grammatical errors.  Of course I can delete a post and pretend it never existed or I can revise it post-production and pretend it’s always been like that. With a book, once it’s on the reader’s shelves, that’s it.  Revise in haste, cringe in leisure.  (Who among us hasn’t opened our published book and wished we could change this word, that construction?)

“Writing is rewriting. A writer must learn to deepen characters, trim writing, and intensify scenes. To fall in love with a first draft to the point where one cannot change it is to greatly enhance the prospects of never publishing.” Richard North Patterson

My first job in revision is:

Macro revision and deconstruction

“Try to find your deepest issue in every confusion and abide by that” D.H. Lawrence

In my first revision (of many, many, many) I ascertain the over-arching questions, which will frame my revision point of view:

A) Are you certain of the theme(s) of your book?

“Theme is not imposed on the story but evoked from within it—initially an intuitive, but finally an intellectual act on the part of the writer” John Gardner

What is your central idea, your connecting thread? (for example, in my book, The Murderer’s Daughters, interlocked themes I recognized after the writing was family loyalty and the limits of family loyalty.)

B) Are you certain of the premise(s) of your book?

“A premise is the truth the story proves, and helps reader extrapolate meaning from events.” Jessica Morell.

What beliefs does your story rest on? (For example, in my book, one premise was that family violence ripples through generations.)

C) Are you clear about the motivation(s) of character(s)

“Make the characters want something right way, even if it’s only a glass of water.” Kurt Vonnegut

Why do your characters do what they do? (One motivation I saw for my character Lulu was shame; for her sister Merry, fear was a stronger motivator.

D) Do you know your character’s crucible?

“Surmounting difficulty is the crucible that forms character.” Anthony Robbins

Crucible:  1. vessel of a very refractory material (as porcelain) used for melting a substance that requires a high degree of heat 2: a severe test 3: a place or situation in which concentrated forces interact to cause or influence change or development. (For example, in my book, when the daughters and nieces of my point of view characters are in danger, that becomes their crucible.

E) Is your dramatic question(s) answered?

“Writing fiction has developed in me an abiding respect for the unknown in a human lifetime and a sense of where to look for the threads, how to follow, how to connect, find in the thick of the tangle what clear fine line persists.” Eudora Welty

What is the over-riding question of your book, what is the gotta-know? (In my book, a dramatic question I recognized was whether or not the POV characters would be re-united with their father.)

F) Do you know your story?

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” William Wordsworth

What happens, that’s your story. How it happens, that’s your plot. Does your plot move the story along? Have you shown your character’s change? Are all conflicts and loose ends resolved? Does your plot structure reveal the story in as gripping a manner as possible?

G). Do you have Tension?

“If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster.” Isaac Asimov

How is your ‘gotta know?” Why would the reader turn the page or move past the first five pages? Do you have questions they want answered? Why will they care about this character(s)?

“It is splendid to be a great writer, to put men into the frying pan of your words and make them pop like chestnuts.” Gustave Flaubert

Coming in Part 2: Checking your technique

A GUEST POST BY CHRIS ABOUZEID

Ten or so years ago, an acquaintance of mine brought her manuscript to the famous Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference.*  Yes, she had dreams of being “discovered,” but mostly she expected to have a good time, meet other writers, and get some helpful criticism on her novel, which is usually what happens there.

The glorious day arrived for Nice Writing Acquaintance’s promised one-on-one meeting with a Quasi-Famous Author (who shall remain nameless because she never named him).  She met him on the patio of one of Bread Loaf’s many postcard-perfect Robert-Frost-slept-here buildings, sat down in a quaint Adirondack chair, and steeled herself for the usual “I really like this, but . . .”

Instead, Quasi-Famous Author began his critique with, “This”—jabbing at her manuscript, just in case she thought he was talking about the chair, or the weather, or pastoral landscape—“this is shit.  Total shit.”

That might as well have been the entire discussion, because my friend didn’t hear another word Quasi-Famous Author said.  She suffered through the rest of the conference, went home and lay in bed for two weeks, crying her eyes out, and swore— (more…)

Last Friday I was scheduled to speak at the ever-terrific Backspace Writer’s Conference. After arriving Thursday afternoon, I had a pleasure I wish on every writer: hearing agents judge query letters and the first pages of books without, yes, for the first time, without clenching and unclenching my fists as I waited for my own turn.

Without my usual dry throat, shaking legs, and nausea, I was able to truly concentrate on the wisdom offered. (Previously, the humming in my head—pleaseloveme, pleaseloveme, pleaseloveme—was too loud to fully take it all in. Praise, I discounted, and critique I’d carry around like a broken doll.)

As I listened to Jeff Kleinman, Kristin Nelson and Joanna Stampfel-Volpe, the wisdom and generosity of these literary agents more than impressed me. Despite their occasionally critically-harsh moments, their desire to see writers succeed was palpable. This is why writers should go to conferences such as Backspace and The Muse and The Marketplace, not necessarily to find an agent (though that is great and possible) but to (more…)

How do you know when to put a book away away and when to keep on plugging? Is it an ingrained personality trait (stubbornness?) that keeps one going? Does an innate wisdom kick in and tell you to give it up? How do you know whether you’re throwing good money after bad or giving up too soon?

Arthur Golden spent ten years working on Memoirs of A Geisha, which then spent 2 years on the NYT bestseller list and sold millions of copies. Herman Melville and Nathaniel Hawthorne passed an ultimately never-published book back and forth for years. Bestselling author Janet Evanovich admits to having three books in the drawer that will never see light.

Nicole Bernier, Beyond The Margins, reveals that Amy Bloom yanked back a novel which was accepted for publication, admitting in an interview, “It was my warm-up … It wasn’t anything of which I had to be deeply ashamed. But it wasn’t as good as I wanted it to be. Once I saw that, then I wanted it not in print.”

I have three books in the drawer (not counting half-hearted starts, odd-ball attempts, and a co-authored near-miss.) One of the three is from many, many years ago and I would be terrified to open it. After I finished that book, (more…)