"But I'm too old to start writing ... painting ... photography ... and other bits of silliness."

Although I started selling short fiction in my thirties, I didn't publish a novel until after age sixty. Why not? All the usual reasons: no time, no energy, no idea I could commit to, a long line of more-pressing chores.

And one more thing—a big thing—probably the sense that I somehow didn't deserve to do this. Yes, I know it doesn't make sense, but it seemed to at the time.

So two things happened: I gave myself permission to "waste" the time, and I started getting up early at least six days a week, working on writing FIRST in my day, instead of dead last when I was exhausted. Yes, instead of waiting until I finished all the other trivial things I put in front of what I really had wanted to do MY WHOLE LIFE.

Colonel Sanders started late. 

By now we've all heard the Col. Sanders and Grandma Moses stories of old codgers who started late and were vastly successful. I love those stories but they don't really matter. 

It's not about being vastly successful. It's about the minutes or hours you spend being true to yourself and to your dreams. For me, it's about looking up from the laptop, knowing I'm spending time doing what I want to do and what I've dreamed of doing and that I've just written something I really, really like. If it never goes any further, that's okay.

Bottom Line. 

We're gonna die, all of us. Nobody gets out of here alive. NOW is when you get to shape your final thoughts. Will they be, "darn, I shoulda ..." 

Or ... "well, that was kind of fun." 

Questions or concerns about starting late? I'm happy to try to answer.