The mid life crisis that men are supposed to have in their 40’s is like a walk in the park. In your 40’s you’re still feeling physically strong, your work is going ok, and you still have most of your hair and your memory. If you haven’t reached your big goal in life, it’s okay. There’s time left. Lots of people make it big in their 50s and you tell yourself that you’re still laying the ground work.
Even hitting the big Five-Oh, is no big deal. But then, a startling event happens. Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two and you finally realize the terrible truth. You will never be Jimmy Buffett, or Stephen King or… name your own hero whose life you covet.
Sure, there are guys in their mid to late 50s who have it locked. They’ve held on to their dough from the dot-com days or enjoy high paying CEO jobs but that’s not you. Your time is passed and you know it. It’s the knowing that scares you. Before, in your 40s you could lie to yourself and say that you’ve still got time. Now, you’re running out of time, bud. It’s coming to a close.
Don’t believe me? Ask your 50-something friends. Know what? You don’t have to ask. You can see it in their faces. A red convertible isn’t going to help. (In fact, you start to look like you’re trying too hard.) A motorcycle? Oy vay, my back. Trophy girlfriend? At 45, you’re exotic and oddly exciting to a chippie. They smile back in bars.
In your 50s, you’re invisible.
I have a friend named Alan, an accomplished writer and author but not accomplished enough. See, that’s part of it, too. No matter how well you’ve done, it’s not enough. We’ll discuss that later. Anyway, Alan, 53, went to the dentist because he broke a tooth. The dentist advised that he have the tooth repaired, root canal, crown, the whole deal. Alan asked: "At the risk of seeming like a lunatic, let me ask you a question. How about I just chew on the other side for the next 15 to 20 years?" The dentist looked at Alan like he indeed was crazy. To Alan, it made logical sense. "I’m on the downside; why bother," he told me.
I’ve written nine books. Even made some good dough doing it. Impressed? I’m not. I’ve done something that most people dream of, writing for a living, but you know what? So what. Where am I now? Very little money to speak of, raising teenagers who can’t stand me and facing lean years because publishers don’t want anything but blockbuster authors anymore. I’m not John Grisham and there’s no chance of that anymore. There was a chance… once.
Publishers want young writers who can hit the bestseller list early in their careers so there’s the opportunity of great rewards down the line. A 54 year old who gets his first bestseller? What’s the point? I want to be Sebastian Junger who hit it big with "The Perfect Storm" in his late 20’s. He’s got the restaurant, the big house and he’s only beginning. Now that’s a life!
I’ve been having dinner with a small coterie of writer friends on the 3rd Friday of every month for 12 years. We call ourselves the Squatting Toad (it’s a long story) and we lament that among us we’ve penned over 50 books, sold over a half million copies combined but we’re still unhappy because we’re not going to ever hit it big with a blockbuster. The topic lately has been why even bother hitting it big now at age 55. How could we enjoy the money and fame. That would be God’s cruel joke.
We’re still hopeful for Dan, though, the youngster in our group. He’s not quite 50.
Usually, essays like this have a positive upturn at the end. Publications pretty much insist on it.
Sorry to disappoint you…. again.