A time to go back home again.
July 7, 2017
After twenty-nine years in the big cities (eight in Los Angeles and twenty-one in Denver), I figure no can say I didn’t earn the short, yet personally monumental leap, to my home country.
Does anyone make major changes anywhere is the vicinity of their 50th birthday and not be accused of some type of midlife crisis?
First of all, obviously there’s some truth (a LOT of it?) to the statistics that a higher percentage of men and women make a relatively bigger life change near midlife than any other period (okay, okay, stop mentally screaming, ladies—predominantly men, I believe). But stop and think:
At the middle-point of a journey, isn’t that the perfect time to sit down, evaluate, examine the water past beneath the bridge, unalterable, but perhaps fixable; examine the current situation; maybe go ahead and throw in a dash of dreams yet unfulfilled; and contemplate the continued (or altered) path of the trip?
What necessarily makes it a crisis?
I would submit each case should be weighed upon its own merits (if there is any cause to weigh it in the first place.
Surprisingly few people have used the MLC moniker on me. In fact, I’ve received overwhelming support from family and friends on my move back to the hometown that raised me and which I use for the backdrop of my Sheriff James Pruett Mystery/Thriller series.
I’ve not told many people this factoid, but in college, when I realized I one day wanted to write novels—preferably a Mystery series based on the Wyoming town in which I grew to manhood (or, more reasonably, rookie adulthood)—my dreamwas to be doing it from that Wyoming town’s grandeur.
So I look at it more that I have made a big step, rather than reached some manner of crisis:
Five hundred mile’s worth.
After twenty-nine years in the big cities (eight in Los Angeles and twenty-one in Denver), I figure no can say I didn’t earn the short, yet personally monumental, leap:
From the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, to my hometown Rockies—the Wind River Range—at this point along Life’s journey. The only punctuation mark left to put on the whole event is a new book.
And I’ve almost got one, a thriller I call Aryan Land. As is usual with my books, it’s coming down to the wire and even I do not know exactly how the story is going to make it to the grand finish (though I always say at this point, if your characters are worth their salt, they have long since taken over their own world, making you a bit of a omnipotent spectator, and they know exactly what they are doing).
Sounds a bit like Life, doesn’t it?
For you writers: I must say that, assuming your hometown is a place you consider high on the list of places to live, the rejuvenating effects of “returning home,” even to a man thirty years absent, are incredible, and do wonders for the muse inside.
And if it’s not your hometown, there must be somewhere you envision as the dream spot from which to “pen” your masterpieces. I can tell you, from experience, don’t wait too long. You’ll be kicking yourself in the hind parts for not doing it sooner.