If you’re an artist or a writer—or both—then you know what I’m talking about when I say “inner critic.” It’s not just a way of describing a tendency toward self-judgment. For us, the inner critic is a loud, nasty, disgusting creature who invades our thoughts, whips us mercilessly, and sometimes decides to chain us up in the dungeon.
Thirty-six, if you believe the results of a recent survey, is the age you give up on your career. You spend your 20s trying to vaguely sort your shit out enough to get a job, and before you know it you’re in your 30s and it’s too late to even think about whether it’s what you wanted to do. Life’s pendulum swings on.
From: “We Asked People in Their 30s If They Hate Their Jobs” on Vice.com
Age can be a touchy topic for artists of all types. There’s a glamorous myth that says all the geniuses come into their talent at a young age, and by the time they’re 30 they have already reached astonishing heights of prowess.
When I was writing my first novel I would have killed for a Fairy Godmother to pop into my life and reassure me that I was on the right track. Every week I took a quick inventory of how many pages I had written, but even though the page count was mounting, my confidence levels seemed to be dropping.
In the past few years trilogies have become all the rage. Whether you write sci-fi, fantasy, horror, or some other kind of speculative fiction, you’ve probably heard that everyone wants to read trilogies these days and everyone is writing trilogies these days.
This can create problems for writers who despair of having a story in them that’s long enough to span three novels, and who also doubt their ability to sustain interest in one project for that long of a time.