Miss Crankypants has noted yet another glaring inequality in the writing world: old writers are discriminated against. The problem seems a lot like the old adage: to get a job you need experience, and to get experience you need a job. By the time most writers have mastered writing skills and have gained the wisdom to have something to say, let’s just say that gravity and too many cheeseburgers have taken their toll. Older writers are overlooked in favor of young fresh faces who are barely old enough to remember cursive writing. I myself wish to be known as a hardbodied, young genius author.
I know several writers (all older than I am, I swear it) who are reluctant to mention the year they graduated from high school, lest any reader do the math. These fine writers have to either have their author pic Photoshopped or else pull out that senior high picture from the 1940s, which if you think about it, has a totally different meaning now.
So what can be done about this blatant discrimination?
The first thing that pops into my wise old head is revolution, of course. We whiteheads and greybeards should all march on Washington (or New York or Nashville, where most of the books come from). We’ll gather on the hottest day of the year, just so the news crews will be forced to watch our upper arms waggle, our tummies jiggle and our wattles wiggle. We’ll all wear visors, of course.
And tell all the grandma writers (like me!) not to pluck those chin hairs, just to watch ’em squirm. We’ll dye our hair blue, leave our partials at home (eeew!) and turn off our hearing aids in case we get interviewed. “Eh?” we’ll say. “What was that, sonny?”
Who’s with me, geezers? Are you ready to take on the writing world and claim your spot in the publishing sun? C’mon, before they inform us that the revolution will not be televised. In that case, this hardbodied genius author will see you at Bingo.