Late bloomers

I just read (in the New Yorker, natch) about Kay Ryan, the U.S. Poet Laureate (the 16th one, ever). Her poetry  wasn't "discovered" until she was 54. Nine years later, in 2008, she became poet laureate. Reading about her gave me a great idea that there is still hope for me. I could be a late bloomer, and my genius might still be discovered!

Producing great art, making your mark late in life, is sort of a reverse Mozart situation. He died at age 35, so indeed the world had only a small dose of him. We lost a lot of geniuses at an early age. Van Gogh was 36, Keats was only 25, Schubert was 31, Byron was 36. But then there are those who didn''t reach full flower until later. Raymond Chandler published his first short story at age 45; Laura Ingalls Wilder didn't write her Little House on the Prairie books until she was in her 60s; Daniel Defoe came up with Robinson Crusoe at age 61. Maybe the work, the genius of the late bloomers balances out the lost art of those who died young.

The important thing, no doubt, is to believe in yourself. Kay Ryan had to self-publish her first book of poetry, and apparently no one paid any attention. But she kept writing. Ditto Emily Dickinson. She wasn't even discovered until she was dead! So there's still hope for me. Now if I could only figure out what I should start doing that I might become famous for.