I came to fiction late-ish, publishing my first novel in 2015 at age 36. I swear, if I'd grown up in the smartphone age, I'd have started writing early. I had ideas for stories as a kid, but I was always too embarrassed to carry a notepad and pencil. So I forgot them all. Never let self-consciousness get in the way of your dreams.
But I got a whole lot of life experience along the way to 36. Just look at the wrinkles in my picture. That's a dermatological record of law school, hospitalization, marriage, parenting, practicing law, getting a divorce, getting out of practicing law, single parenting. Etcetera.
That's okay, because stories are about people. A burning car is a spectacle. A burning car with a person trapped inside is a tragedy. And you only learn about people - yourself and others - through hard won experience.
Like escaping that burning car.
Weird like Daddy