Our guest today is Barbara Rogan, author of eight novels, most recently A Dangerous Fiction (Viking/Penguin), and co-author of two nonfiction works. Her books have been translated into half a dozen languages, featured by major book clubs, and optioned for film. After working as an editor at Fawcett Books, she founded and ran her own literary agency. She has taught fiction writing at Hofstra University and SUNY Farmingdale and currently teaches online at www.NextLevelWorkshop.com.
Writers eavesdrop, fiction writers especially. They have to. Eavesdropping serves a dual purpose, keeping writers in touch with the ever-evolving vernacular while providing field study in human nature. That’s why my recent diagnosis of “mild hearing impairment” gave rise to an existential crisis and, eventually, this essay.
The issue will affect every writer who lives long enough. Yet it’s rarely discussed in polite company, maybe because hearing loss is emblematic of the real taboo: encroaching old age. My essay begins with an appreciation of eavesdropping, then segues into the Forbidden Zone to consider the drawbacks and the benefits of WWO (Writing While Old), a topic I feel all too well qualified to explore.
Connect with Barbara on Twitter, on Facebook, and on her blog.
Speak Up, I’m Eavesdropping
I put it off as long as I could. Covered up, as people do; smiled and nodded. Finally I gave in and went to an audiologist.
She sat me in a booth and covered my head with large earphones. I could see her through the window, taking notes. If there was a period of silence, I watched her face for clues. It was a test, after all; I wanted to do well.
Afterward, we went over the results. “Mild hearing loss,” she said cheerfully. “Comes with age. You probably don’t even notice it except when you’re trying to have a conversation somewhere noisy.”
I didn’t mind so much about conversations. One can always shout. But noisy public places are prime eavesdropping territory, and for a writer, that matters terribly.
Writers are nosy. I say this without apology, as nosiness is a requirement of the trade. For writers, as for actors, observation fuels invention. Our natural aspect is that of a fly on the wall, our patron saint Harriet the Spy.
As both human nature and language are the proper study of writers, eavesdropping is not a trivial pursuit. It’s a means of staying in touch with the ever-evolving vernacular and transcending our narrow personal circles. Hearing in general is so vital to writers that deaf writers are as rare on the ground as deaf musicians; yet some degree of hearing loss is almost inevitable with age. The first time I heard about Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In, I thought someone had finally come up with a practical solution, cheaper than hearing aids, though limited in efficacy; there’s only so much you can lean in without landing in someone’s soup.
Eavesdropping has always been a rich and essential resource for me. I once spent 36 hours in a Brooklyn ER with my younger son, waiting for a bed to open up. Despite my anxiety, I spent that time doing what writers do: observing and listening. And before my son was even released, I knew that I’d found the perfect setting for a book I’d long wanted to write.
[pullquote]I didn’t take the audiologist’s diagnosis well. Any degree of hearing loss threatened me where I lived; think of a painter with cataracts. Everything else aside, hearing loss is associated with encroaching old age, which has its own particular terrors for writers.[/pullquote]It’s not just me. There’s a reason, apart from coffee, why so many writers work in cafés: they’re great places to eavesdrop. Buses, trains, waiting rooms and bleachers are all excellent resources, but my personal favorite was always the diner. The booths provide enough illusory privacy to encourage revealing conversation, enough real privacy to allow me to take notes. I’ve overheard break-ups and make-ups, quarrels and seductions, women dissecting men, men puzzling over women, doctors dishing about patients, cult recruiters exchanging tips. My favorite bit of found art was a conversation between a father and his young son.“You know, Dad,” the child said thoughtfully, “some of the best things in life are things you can’t buy with money.”
“Yes, my son?”
“Like friends,” the boy said. “And a family that loves you. And picking your nose.”
So I didn’t take the audiologist’s diagnosis well. Any degree of hearing loss threatened me where I lived; think of a painter with cataracts. Everything else aside, hearing loss is associated with encroaching old age, which has its own particular terrors for writers.
It’s not discussed in polite circles, age being the last remaining closet. But the truth is that there are commercial penalties for WWO — Writing While Old. One is no longer in the running for “hot new writer.” There is, sadly but inevitably, a tipping point at which the books become sexier than the author. Older writers in search of a new agent or publishing house are at a disadvantage compared to young writers with decades of work ahead of them.
Nor is hearing the only sense affected by age. Others may decline as well; yet fiction is grounded in sensory detail. A permanent dimming of sensation can force the older writer to resort to life’s pale cousin, memory.
Physically, writing a novel is far more labor-intensive than most people think. To produce a manuscript of 100,000 words, the writer might easily type five times that many in drafts. Travel, too, becomes more onerous as writers age and commercial planes devolve into sardine cans–yet nothing is more nourishing for writers than travel.
For some aging writers, there is also anxiety. Writing doesn’t come with a pension. This startling realization dawns on most writers around the time their non-writer friends begin retiring with comfortable nest eggs. No doubt it should have occurred to them sooner, but they were too busy reveling in the perks of their profession: setting their own hours, working at home, and making a living doing what they loved.
Fortunately, these drawbacks are offset by advantages that allow writers, unlike dancers or athletes, to continue playing at a high level even in old age. Experience is a great asset. One doesn’t need 20/20 vision to see into the human heart, the wellspring of all fiction. Older writers have lived, learned, read, suffered and survived more. “The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected,” said Robert Frost, who kept writing well into his 80s.
Older writers have skills, because the good ones never stop growing. They tend to value simplicity and clarity over ostentation. They put the story first. They’ve found their voice.
The extreme turbulence of youth is behind them. When productivity is the goal, it’s better to have suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune than to be currently under fire.
Technology gives us tools as well. Google Earth is no substitute for travel, but it sure is a great backup. And writers afflicted with arthritis can now resort to first-rate dictation software.
Bottom line, it’s not as if we have a choice. Writers write, whatever the circumstances. As for me, I’m making my adjustments. I thought of handing out cards — “Speak up, I’m eavesdropping”—but decided that might have an inhibiting effect. Instead, I practice leaning in, though I find it’s not much needed. Recently in an airport departure lounge, I heard a young woman on a cell phone described in excruciating detail the party she’d gone to the night before. She’d gotten wasted, she said, passed out, and woke the next morning in bed with a stranger. As the young woman strolled off, still spewing into her phone, a flash symposium broke out among the dozen or so stunned passengers within earshot.
I hate it that I don’t hear as well as I used to. These days, though, people talk more loudly and openly than ever before. It’s wonderful how things work out.
What are the challenges you see that face the aging writer? What about assets for WWO (Writing While Old)? Is it something you spend time thinking or worrying about?
Barbara, this is beautiful, poignant and well written. I’m in the over 60 bracket having published 2 nonfiction books and now working on my first YA novel (there’s a lot of similarity between teens and seniors, don’t you think?) I loved every one of your observations. Keep listening, leaning in, and observing. Going to look for your books!
Thanks, Carol. What sweeter words are there than “going to look for your books?”
PS I do worry about not finding an agent at this point in my “career.” But all i can do is write the best book I can and read great blogs like this one to keep me going.
Carol, writing the best book you can is the best and most effective answer to “WWO”…that, and not mentioning your age when you submit. No one’s business anyway!
As I approach 60, I find that my age is an advantage because I have so many more life experiences on which to draw than a younger person does. I recently attended a presentation on Gen X-ers in which the 30-something presenter cited the House Impeachment proceedings of the 1990s as the first time the government had lied to the people. Really? Clearly this person wasn’t around for Watergate, but I remember it vividly and it served as one of the signposts in my first novel. I have the same problem you do with diminished hearing. Since I have difficulty hearing conversations, what I like to do in airports and coffee shops is to size up the people I’m watching and then imagine what they are talking about, based on their body language. It’s a lot of fun. Thank you, Barbara, for your thoughtful post.
That’s one way of dealing. I’ve thought of taking up lip-reading; then I could eavesdrop from across the room.
I wouldn’t consider myself “WWO” yet, but I do suffer with Rheumatoid Arthritis, and have for almost twenty years. But, and here’s the cool part, my rheumatologist told me that writing full-time was my smartest move since my diagnosis. It keeps my fingers moving, the blow flowing, and the swelling down. Few thousand words a day keeps the doctor away!
Thanks, Sue. Anything that keeps the doctor away works for me.
Shaking my head here. I’m 65, and hoping to get Pride’s Children, my first novel (which is in the final production stages), out before I hit 66 in September, and I have all of those problems you’re mentioning (except hearing loss. Hmmm).
And it makes no difference. Emily Dickinson was young – and pathologically shy – and it didn’t matter. Christy Brown had the use of ONE TOE. Didn’t matter.
My idol, Flannery O’Connor, was dead by 39 from the complications of lupus. She wrote every day.
Writing is especially suitable for people like me who don’t get out much. I spend hours a day doing something USEFUL in spite of being disabled. Otherwise the bon bons pile on the pounds. Writing gives me a reason to get up in the morning and get going – there are a million things I can’t do, but this one I can.
I don’t think listening to a 20-something scream into her phone at an airport about sleeping with some stranger while drunk is going to end up in one of MY books (sounded like fun to listen), but thanks for reporting about it – in writing – I’ll tuck it away into those memories.
Wonderful post – just: don’t worry so hard about aging. The alternative is worse!
Yes–I used to think “Die young and leave a beautiful corpse” made sense, till I had kids and a life. As for age restrictions–my mother-in-law published her first book with a university press when she was 80+, and she’s now working on her second.
Kudos to your mother-in-law! That’s amazing.
If you’re not particularly beautiful, you don’t have that option. “We’re going to miss you when you’re gone,” was what my Dad used to say when we 5 girls misbehaved at the dinner table – and were about to be given the boot if we didn’t cut out whatever it was, immediately.
So my only good alternative is to keep writing – and using that mental activity to keep the little gray cells going as long as possible. Then they can pry the keyboard from my cold fingers and bury it with me.
No hurry! I have lots of stories to tell, and I’m a slow starter, even if you MIL has me beat.
Not being able to eavesdrop is a problem. With my more-than-slight hearing loss, I’m fairly clueless about the dries and whispers around me even while wearing hearing aids. I miss one thing more: being able to participate in conversations. Seems that with some hearing loss, mine included, the ability to hear speech is the first to go. Lawn mowers I can hear; my granddaughters, I cannot. Sorry to hear you’re on this road as well.
Better than the alternative. As long as the gray cells hold out…
Barbara–
In itself, your post illustrates the clarity and lack of pretense that–best case scenario–comes with getting older as a writer. Thank you very much.
You ask whether other writers think there are assets that come with getting old, and whether they dwell on aging. With me, one obvious asset is being retired from the workplace (college teaching). When I read posts at Writer Unboxed written by younger writers–usually mothers, often with second full-time jobs (mothering being the first)–I am reminded of all the discretionary time I now have. Young or old, I doubt I could manage all that younger writers do, and still have any juice left for the demands involved in writing novels.
As for eavesdropping, taking notes and spying on others in public places, I no longer do it. When young, yes, all the time. But lately I’ve come to embrace a comment of Norman Mailer’s. When asked whether he suffered from memory loss in old age, and if so, what he did about it, Mailer said he now thought of his memory as being like a Swiss cheese. All the holes represented what was no longer important, leaving just the good stuff.
Probably that’s nonsense, but it’s still a comfort. Even so, I’m old now–not getting old, or “of a certain age” old, but really old–and this does affect my attitude as a writer. I’m not much interested in developing new narratives, but in refining ones written in the past. Old age and retirement aid me in this process.
Of course I still want people to read my stories, but the greater emphasis is now on pleasing myself, in taking pride in what I publish under my own name. I listen to the wise discussions of craft that take place at WU and elsewhere, and learn from many of them. But I’ve lived a long time, and read and written enough to have my own standards. Or I certainly should have them. That, too, is a plus associated with getting older.
Thanks again for a fine post.
Thank you, Barry, for a kind and thoughtful comment.
Although I’m still this side of 60, I’m closing in fast and your commentary hits home hard for me. And don’t laugh at me claiming the “older” status at 54; it’s quite valid. I routinely see 50 somethings phased out of jobs (creatively so as to be legal) in lieu of younger, cheaper versions of themselves. I spent most of the last five years being unexpectedly unemployed or underemployed. We adjusted to me making about one-third of what I used to make. Deciding to pursue writing when I should be squirreling away nuts for retirement is either brilliant or foolish, depends on who is doing the defining. I have found an enjoyable part-time corporate office job to satisfy our monetary needs and give me time for writing.
Beyond continuing financial concerns (needing to eat and sleep in a warm bed), one problem I’ve encountered in writing narratives for online new magazines is that I’m not very interested in popular culture; I can’t give commentary on most television shows. I won’t give political commentary on left versus right and I no longer care about most popular trends. My essays, to date, easily betray my age, I think. At least with writing fiction, age seems to be an advantage and isn’t so noticeable to the reader.
The good side of “deciding” to pursue professional writing at age 53 is that I am not willing to waste any time. I know what I want to write and I write it. Life’s grandfather clock has become rather loud, even as my own aural acuity diminishes. Goal-setting is a easier at an older age, I think, because I can’t afford the time of a more complicated plan – no writing degrees, no summer long retreats in a cabin, etc. Therefore, my goal in writing is to continue to read as much as possible and then write everyday. When I don’t know what to write, I read. When I’m around people, I focus on them. Between reading and living life, I find enough to write about. Even if I never get a book published, I will not have wasted any time. I’ll still be happy that I spent my time reading and writing. I can only imagine that I would not have been happy with that plan when I was in my twenties or thirties.
Another benefit of being an older writer is that I can’t afford to clutter my mind with millions of bits of writing advice. The internet is swimming with it. I’ve identified key mentors, muses and resources (you made the cut) and otherwise wear blinders.
And I think one of the biggest benefits of being an older writer (and an older woman) is that I am not nearly so entangled with worries of what people will think, as I was when I was even into my forties. I tried to start writing professional when I was in my early forties and I could not stomach any criticism what so ever. Now, I am able to plunk down a finished product and walk away from it.
I’m glad I’m older, despite the perceived lack of time left to write.
I think that in some ways older writers have the best of both worlds: more experience, but also more access to writing markets than ever before. And maybe also the ingrained habit of optimism, which is essential (however deluded) to withstand the ups and downs of the writing life.
Barbara, thanks for sharing this. It’s so important to talk about hearing loss, however mild or severe it might be! And yes, it can be especially hard on those of us whose job descriptions include “eavesdropping.”
My husband, who’s 56, has had a fairly severe hearing loss that’s been coming on for almost 20 years. He runs a food distribution company and getting out there and talking with prospective new clients is a huge part of his job. It’s been hard on his morale over the past 5 years in particular as he’s found it increasingly difficult to connect with clients verbally.
I also have a mild hearing loss (I’m 48). If we ever go out to dinner, you’ll notice that I keep asking you to repeat yourself because in any situation with background noise, the background noise is all I can hear!
As far as the writing life, there’s one thing I’ll add: with eavesdropping comes an acute ability to remember interesting snippets in vivid detail, and I do find that that happens, too, with whatever I happen to read — whether books or emails and blog post comments. There’s fodder there, too!
Agreed–but at the same time, I think, writers need to be out in the world. Memory can grow stale.
I’m enjoying the freedom of my age. No more 9 to 5, no more rushing out the door in the morning suffering from lack of sleep, no more spending hours a day doing something I wouldn’t choose to do if it weren’t for the paycheck at the end of the week. And now I have a lifetime of experience to draw on.
I consider myself lucky not to have any mobility issues or major aches and pains, nor hearing loss (knock wood), and my vision is ten times better than it was for the first 60 years of my life thanks to laser surgery. I don’t eavesdrop regularly because I live on a ranch and only go to town once a week.
For me, WWO is the perfect time to be writing, although I still struggle with time management. How to fit in spending time with my dogs and horses (not to mention my two legged loved ones) workiing in the garden, housework, yard chores, meal preparation, and being just plain lazy. (Is it lazy to sit back and enjoy the beauty of nature? Maybe it’s a spiritual necessity.)
When I no longer feel a need to write for others (I have a mystery series and am blessed to have readers eagerly awaiting the next book), I expect I will still write for myself, as I have all my life. I won’t worry about being unable to write until it happens.
Aging is something we all face, if we’re lucky. Thanks for posting.
Horses, dogs, family around–an enviable life!
I think writers are like a good wine. They getting only better with aging.
What a lovely thought. I’d like to be Champagne.
I wrote in college then quit for over 30 years while pursuing work to provide living expenses. I only got really serious after taking an early retirement due to health reasons. I have good and bad days and I’m unable to write every day, but I do a lot of research, for the book, yes..but mainly studying the craft. I’m now 56 and I’ve been working on this for about 3 years. I am positive that I wouldn’t have had the patience to do so when I was younger. Back then, of course, there was no internet and self-publishing was considered an author’s death sentence as it was considered vanity publishing and only hacks did that. So, if I got published at all, it would be an inferior product because I wouldn’t have had the patience to do all the studying that I am now doing. In that regard, I am glad that I waited. I have more life experience as well to draw on. I never did finish getting my degree, and it seems like most authors have a degree in something, even if it’s non-related to writing or publishing. That has made me a bit self-conscious, but I still don’t let it deter me. My health issues don’t involve hearing, but I do have some mobility issues and sometimes slight memory stumbles. Thank you for such a wonderful post to inspire those of us who WWO.
I can’t imagine that a degree matters at this stage. You have tons of life experience, and (I hope) a life time of reading to feed your work. Thanks for posting, and good luck with the w.i.p.
Barbara, Thanks for this thoughtful post that hit on so many WWO pain points. I’m holding tight to my mid-fifties, and as I await the fate of my first novel, “Deliver Her,” I’m conscious of the many blessings of coming to fiction writing as “a woman of a certain age:” experience, the luxury of time, a thicker skin, a fuller life so that publication becomes the icing on the cake.
You mentioned anxiety. I write in the early mornings, before the coffee kicks in. I’ll be humming along, and then suddenly be stumped for a word. Instead of laboring over it, I’ll type an “X” as a marker for later. There are some mornings when my WIP is studded with X’s. I hope that (hmmm…what’s the word for dedicating time to writing every day? Scheduled? No, that’s not right. Routine? Nope… XXXXX….wait a minute, it’s coming to me: Disciplined!) I hope that disciplined writing will keep my wiring sharp and forestall some of the memory issues we are likely to face as we age.
As for eavesdropping: yes, it’s more of a stretch to pick up sound bites these days. But one perk of being a fiction writer is that we get to fill in the blanks!
Pat, very true about filling in the blanks–though some of what I hear, I couldn’t invent! Life really is stranger than fiction sometimes. Good luck with DELIVER HER!
Oh, what a brilliant post! My reaction is not ‘been there, done that’ but ‘I’m here, yes, you’re right.’ I particularly love “There is, sadly but inevitably, a tipping point at which the books become sexier than the author.” At the ripe old age of mphm, I have just become a writer or erotic romance, and yes, so very sadly, this is true.
Off now to get acquainted with your books. I think you have just enriched my life. And thank you.
Hi Jenny, Thanks so much! Sounds like your books might enrich mine as well. In the case of erotica writers, though, I think it’s just fine that the books are sexier than the authors. Most protagonists are more gorgeous than their creators, too, for some odd reason. Fantasy is a beautiful thing.
Hi Barbara,
Needless to say you caught my attention. Having been a middle school principal I was happy I had good hearing that could follow conversations around corners and down staircases. It saved many a child from committing some offense he would later regret. I am lucky and my hearing is still sharp,but I know the day is coming – so I’ll tuck away your thoughts and have them at the ready.
And yes, I have sat having a pedicure many a time and have listened to the most personal phone conversations from women sitting next to me. It would seem that many don’t have filters when phone gabbing in public.
As always your sense of humor and perspective make your piece sing so that all can hear.
To anyone who might read this, do check out Barbara’s web site. She offers many courses connected with the writing process and is the most gifted of teachers.
Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Louise, that means a lot, especially coming from a pro like yourself.
Barbara, thank you! I’m 76, was first published at 72 without benefit of an agent, and have a series of novels in mind, the first of which I’m taking to a writer’s conference this year hoping to intrigue an agent. Hope springs eternal. My family says I have hearing loss, but I’m not sure it isn’t attention deficit. I love reading pieces like this one. If you’re anywhere in central Kansas, please call me. We’ll have coffee – without conversation – as we both eavesdrop.
Thanks for commenting, Judith, and I’ll take you up on that cup of coffee if I ever do come to Kansas. Congrats on the publication!