Of course, it’s all relative as to what constitutes a late bloomer. In the garden it can mean late spring, late in the season, or late in the year. Last week millions of people were introduced to the world’s most famous (at least right now) late bloomer – Susan Boyle, she of the viewed 35 million times Youtube/Britain’s Got Talent video. I accounted for four of those views myself, each time blubbering like a baby.

There were lots of reasons the video was such a phenomenon. Yes, she has angelic voice and yes, her appearance might suggest otherwise (although all she really needed was a Tweezerman and a little makeup.) And the television program she appeared on delights in embarrassing people and – for some reason I cannot fathom – people don’t mind making idiots of themselves on a global stage.

I prefer to think the reason for Susan’s success was at that the ripe old age of 47, she clung to her dream long enough to make it come true. And we got to watch. And maybe believe that some of our dreams might still come true. I don’t know anyone so cool (or so cold, really) who didn’t share in her triumph. Why should the precocious get all the attention – those scary little tykes with the oversized lungs who shriek into microphones and hope to be the next (lord help them) Miley Cyrus?

Or maybe I loved the video because I too am a late bloomer. I didn’t even start writing until I was past forty. By that time most successful writers have a few books under their belts, even if they’ve been toiling away in anonymity waiting for their breakout book to happen.

But that does not seem to be the case for mysteries. Hallelujah! Looking over the list of Agatha nominees for Best First Novel, none of us is anyone’s idea of a spring chicken. (I know all of those gals and think I can write that without getting clobbered in Arlington!) When I wrote Pushing Up Daisies, I wasn’t even thinking about publication, I just wanted to finish the darn thing. Then the other stuff came..agent, book deal.. second book deal. And now an Agatha nomination. And it’s all mighty fine. Maybe even sweeter since it’s a second act and there aren’t supposed to be any of those.

The point is, why let the Simon whatever-his-name-is type of person convince you it’s too late to live your dream. Unless, of course, your dream is to play shortstop for the Yankees, swim the English Channel or play guitar like Eric Clapton, in which case, it probably is too late if you’re past forty. But other than that, why not go for it?

Cheers,
Rosemary
http://www.rosemaryharris.com/

Rosemary Harris is the author of the Dirty Business Mystery series from St. Martin’s Minotaur, Pushing Up Daisies, The Big Dirt Nap, and Deadhead (2010.) She’s the president of Sisters in Crime New England, a board member of MWA-NY Chapter, a member of the Garden Writers of America, and a Master Gardener in the state of CT. She’s still over forty.