Women of a certain age is a polite phrase to describe older women. The Urban Dictionary helpfully sheds more light on it, as follows:

“Ironically polite term for a woman who does not want her actual age known, e.g. one who is close to or just over the menopause.”

Clearly it was a man who supplied this definition, convinced as many of them are that changes in women’s lives are entirely hormonally driven. The entry goes on to say “things which define women of a certain age are: exceptionally gaudy clothing, homeopathy and aromatherapy, sensible haircuts, books on feminism, affairs with paper boys, and coffee mornings.”

I plead guilty to reading books on feminism and the occasional coffee morning, but affairs with paper boys??? “Older” in any case is a relative term and depends on your vantage point. The closer one gets to old age, the further away the goal posts tend to move. Indeed, now that eighty is so close I can hear the distant drone of its engines, I’m thinking old age is when the telegram arrives from the King. (Unless such a practice is deemed politically incorrect by then).

In terms of older women writers however, what concerns me is that as an older woman writer with a negligible track record of publications, ageism might seriously compromise my chances of publication if I ever get that lengthily gestating novel off the ground. Much as I try and reassure myself with platitudes like age doesn’t matter, it’s never too late and all the rest of the waffle, negative age stereotypes prevail in our society, and if anything, are getting worse, to the extent that it’s credible to refer to an ageism boom, as Tad Friend does in an article published in the November 13, 2017 edition of The New Yorker titled “Why Ageism Never Gets Old” . In it he notes “the global ageism boom stems not from modernization or capitalism but from the increase in old people.”  Something else we can blame the baby boomers for. Which, as Jenny Bristow writes in her article “Blaming the Baby Boomers Does Young People No Favours”  published in The Conversation, has become a popular sport which is having real impact on government policies.

According to the Human Rights Commission ageism is a serious and insidious problem. In her book “Breaking the Age Code: How Your Beliefs About Aging Determine How Long & Well You Live” Becca Levy writes “ageism is the most widespread and socially accepted prejudice today” and “unlike race and sex stereotypes, we encounter age stereotypes decades before they refer to our own age group, so we rarely question or try to resist them”.

What’s especially alarming about this is that ageism is so indisputably socially accepted. Old people have been the targets of jokes, cartoons and all kinds of snide humour for so long, the practice has been taken for granted. And it’s not just the young who get off on ridiculing the old, we all do it. 

What this attitude assumes is that all older people suffer from declining competence, both mental and physical. Older women in particular are mocked on the basis of their looks, their forgetfulness and of course their disappearing hormones! Old age has become something to either be feared or laughed at. Debilities and medical problems exacerbated by age are of course a reality. Even for those lucky enough to avoid them, it’s common to occasionally experience fatigue, difficulty concentrating, lack of focus, fading memory and (hell for a writer) word loss.

However, because the challenges may be greater for the older writer it doesn’t mean we should give up. Compensatory advantages such as wisdom (even if in hindsight), greater self-understanding, emotional maturity, and a lifetime of reading and thinking about books are not to be overlooked.

Most pertinent to older writers’ capacity to write into old age, is the matter of creative capacity. Does it drain away the older we get? An article written by Roger J. Kreuz and published in The Conversation suggests it does not. He notes that “numerous writers produce significant work well into their 70s, 80s and even their 90s”. Toni Morrison, for example, published numerous books, essays and nonfiction after the age of 70 and Herman Wouk’s final novel “The Lawgiver” was published when he was 97. 

Creativity of course is about more than writing, painting, playing music or making something beautiful. I love this definition coined by Kae Tempest: “creativity is the ability to feel wonder and the desire to respond to what we find startling”. Age, based on this criterion, is completely irrelevant.

Becca Levy mentions, in relation to creativity in later life, the California psychologist, Dean Simonton, who investigates creative people across different cultures and time periods. His research shows that the quality of creative work remains constant during the life span. There can in fact be creativity peaks in later life, a fortuitous phenomenon that gives rise to the phrase “late bloomers”. In wondering hopefully whether I might fit the profile, I came across a book called “Late Bloomers: the Power of Patience in a World Obsessed with Early Achievement“ by Rich Karlgaard, which is going to the top of my TBR list.

Becca Levy quotes two inspirational older writers, Penelope Lively and Joan Erikson who both found old age to be a richly sensual and productive chapter of their lives. “Creative activities in general,” Levy writes, “and specifically all art-oriented making and doing throughout life, offer this fulfilment.”

Levy cites evidence to suggest later life can be a period when new forms of creativity materialise and an “old-age style” or “Alterstil“,  becomes evident. (Alterstil is a Dutch term which describes the artistic style of an older artist who breaks away from the current or prevailing style.) Such a style is often seen as visionary, and is marked by an increased sense of drama, a more instinctual technical approach, an expansion of perspective, and a reliance on intuition and the unconscious. Examples Levy gives of artists who have demonstrated this capacity include Michelangelo and Joseph Turner.

Levy goes on to cite other research that shows authors’ use of language increases with age and older writers demonstrate a more meaningful engagement with emotional meaning, empathy and reflection.

There are many older women writers who wrote and are writing well into old age, for example Colette, Toni Morrison, Doris Lessing, (above featured image taken from pinterest feed of Valeria Gallo), Ursula Le Guin, Margaret Atwood, Elizabeth Jolley, to name just a few. These writers of course are well established, legendary even, with strong bodies of work behind them. One can’t help but think if Margaret Atwood submitted her shopping list to her publisher, it would be on the shelves in a flash. (Nothing against the idea, as I’m in total awe of her.)

However, for older women writers without a track record, getting published is likely to be a challenge. It’s a struggle anyway, regardless of age, for first-time novelists without any publishing credits to find a publisher. But for first-time older women novelists it’s worse. Agents and publishers are more excited about buying debuts from edgy young breakout novelists, seeing them perhaps as easier to market and promote. They may question whether an older writer would be sufficiently in touch with the literary zeitgeist, able to sell themselves on social media, or up to delivering on multiple book deals.

Interestingly, when I entered “older women writers” into Google, I was surprised to see the first link that came up was an article titled “10 Women Authors You Should Read Who Published After Age 40”. Since when has 40 been remotely old? Another example of an unfortunate assumption that creativity falls away with the years.

More hopeful however was another article published in The Guardian on 25^th February 2023, called “Things Are Definitely Opening Up: the Rise of Older Female Writers”. Written by Amelia Hill, the article claims “unpublished authors in their 60s, 70s and 80s are now at a premium in the book world – with radical, edgy women in high demand”. (I began to wonder if I might be radical or edgy enough to qualify. Perhaps I should adopt a funkier, retro look, sort of aged hippie, flowing garments to go with the flowing flesh). She goes on to quote Lisa Highton, an associate agent at Jenny Brown Associates, who states “The publishing world is working hard to normalize and celebrate the vast diversity of women over 45 and to value their collected, distilled wisdom, their lifetime of reading and radicalism that is not possible for younger writers.”  

This is music to my ears. Hill contends that the youth-obsessed literary culture that has held sway for some years is rapidly being overtaken by a demand for women authors aged into their 80s. She’s backed up by Cherry Potts, founder of Arachne Press, who’s quoted as saying “there has been a sea change in publishers’ understanding and acceptance of older women’s experience and their voices, which are no longer dismissed as safe or cosy.” 

The article also states that “the vast majority of books are bought by women aged 45 and above. They’re a hugely important demographic and increasingly want to see themselves represented in books.”

I and many of my friends can vouch for that. An article on Gransnet titled “Ageism in Fiction” reveals the results of a survey conducted in association with HQ (Harper Collins Publishing) of over 1,000 women over 40 in regard to their reading preferences. This showed most women considered the portrayal of older women in fiction was out of touch with today’s reality and that there were not enough books about older women. Over half the women complained about older women being represented in fiction as “doddery, dotty and baffled by IT”.

This sounds encouraging, but it doesn’t necessarily mean discrimination against older women writers is about to disappear, or that it will be easier for an older woman writer to get a debut novel published. What it does suggest though is that an unpublished older woman writer would be wise to look up Lisa Highton or Cherry Potts!

To further put the Amelia Hill article in perspective, Caroline Lodge in an article called “Older Women Writers – In Demand or Not?” published on her blog Book Word points to another article that suggests nothing much has changed. This is the view of Debbie Taylor writing in the journal Mslexia. In an article called “The Time of Our Lives”, she contends ageist attitudes towards older women are still very much alive and well. In it Taylor quotes a survey of 1700 women writers which found 50% considered ageism impacted how they were treated by agents and editors. As well, 21% had experienced direct ageism. One woman writer reported she’d been asked to state her age and provide a photograph when submitting. Discrimination would seem the only reason for this. Taylor concludes that while ageism continues to be a significant obstacle, it’s not insurmountable. She writes “The doors are ajar for older writers. It’s up to us to ram our trainers, Doc Martens and stilettos into the gaps and push them open. “

(Mslexia, which describes itself as a magazine for women who write, looks like a journal well worth subscribing to.) 

Heidi McCrary, in an article titled “Finding Your Voice After 50” published on the website Women Writers: Women[s] Books, says “While many manuscripts worthy of publication land on the desks of 20-something-year-old agents, a great majority are written by women over the age of 50 and targeted to a more mature reader. Twenty-something agents simply aren’t looking to partner with authors old enough to have taken typing class in high school…..literary agents are looking for the next Hunger Games trilogy. Simply put, if your protagonist doesn’t have wings or a superpower, your manuscript is more likely to collect dust than royalties.”

This certainly contradicts Amelia Hill’s rosy picture, but the author has a valid point in that as a woman of 50, 60, 70 or older, the fate of your manuscript will likely lie in the hands of someone young enough to be your child or grandchild. It’s a safe bet that their tastes will be vastly different from yours in terms of what makes good reading.  

On the face of it, this is enough to daunt the most confident older woman writer, let alone the one whose self-worth is constantly being bludgeoned about the head because of ageism (and/or sexism but that’s a whole other very long story).

Writer and illustrator Joanna Walsh has been calling out age-based discrimination against writers for some years now. She contends in an article in The Guardian that “authors under 40 get disproportionate support and their valorisation tends to push women and minorities to the margins.” Age-based criteria, she points out (whether explicitly stated or not) contradict the provisions of equal opportunity legislation. Her article was provoked by a call from the Royal Society of Literature for nominations for 40 new fellows under the age of 40. A case of explicit discrimination here but there are many more situations where the message is implicit. Take for example those ubiquitous “best of” compilations. Walsh, in another article, asks why so many publications love trotting out best new writers under 40 lists and variations on the theme. Such practices, she says “reinforce the notion that fiction is a young person’s game. Isn’t it time we started celebrating the mature voice – and the achievement of being published at all?”

Caroline Lodge on her previously mentioned blog, Book Word, suggests that the media often contribute to the idea that older women writers are an anomaly. For example, reporting on the case of an 82-year-old woman who landed a book deal, the headline announces “Grandmother aged 82 lands her first book deal”. What does the fact that she’s a grandmother have to do with her writing career, I wonder. And later in the article she’s referred to as the “active octogenarian”, which makes her sound like she should be in a zoo. And then there’s this one: “Grandmother, 70, explodes ‘myths’ to make Costa shortlist with debut novel”. All these references to grandmothers, octogenarians, exploding myths and so on can’t help but reinforce the idea that there’s something almost freakish about older women accomplishing something noteworthy. As if these women should be satisfied with more tranquil pursuits – pottering in gardens, coddling grandchildren, playing gentle games of bridge.

There is however another aspect of ageism which isn’t about what others think or say and that’s the ageism we unwittingly practise against ourselves. In a widely acclaimed article in The Conversation titled “Homesick for Ourselves: the Hidden Grief of Ageing”, Carol Lefevre associates the sadness we feel about our own ageing with homesickness. It’s a form of nostalgia, she explains, for our lost youth. “The nostalgia associated with old age …appears incurable, since there can be no possibility of a return to an irrecoverable youth.” Looking back to a younger self, possessed of all the vibrancy, energy, and attractiveness that we no longer have can precipitate a form of grieving. Lefevre describes this as “an internalised ageism”. It’s an attitude that stems from our own insecurities but is exacerbated by the youth- centric culture in which we live.

In part, this grieving for lost youth is regret, the sense that we haven’t made the most of our life, that we’ve reneged on our dreams, or rejected our aspirations as unrealistic. Time, once an opportunity, is now our enemy, because it’s draining away too fast. In this state of mind, summoning the confidence, enthusiasm and self-belief to take up a significant challenge, whether it be writing, studying, or something else, becomes fraught by the self-sabotaging messages we send ourselves. How much harder to try and fail at sixty, seventy, eighty than at twenty or thirty? Resilience, like the body, falters with age.

In the same way that ageism directed at older people is based on stereotypes, beliefs we ourselves hold about ageing typecast us and undermine our capacities. Negative age stereotypes we absorb from all around us inhibit not just our creativity, but as Becca Levy writes, also compromise our ability to use our sensory systems.

In another article published in The Conversation, titled “Grey Haired and Radiant – Reimagining Ageing For Women”, Carol Lefevre quotes Patti Smith, still performing at 76, who says:

“As a child I thought I would never grow up, that I could will it so. And then I realized, quite recently, that I had crossed some line, unconsciously cloaked in the truth of my chronology. How did we get so damn old? I say to my joints, my iron-coloured hair.”

None of us when young believed we’d end up old. I remember as a teenager noticing my mother’s flabby arms and thinking I’d never allow myself to look like that. As if I’d have a choice in the matter. Now flabby arms are the least of my problems. There’s no question it’s disheartening to witness the gradual loss of physical attributes we once took for granted and it’s harder, I believe, for women, victims as we are of a culture that attaches an inordinate amount of importance to women’s looks. As Carol Lefevre points out in her abovementioned article “Grey Haired and Radiant”, “the premium placed on feminine beauty means that older women often find themselves at the terrible nexus of sexism and ageism.” Sexism in writing isn’t what this post is about but it’s well nigh impossible to discuss ageism in regard to women writers as a separate entity from sexism. The two are so closely interlinked. Joanne Harris (mentioned above) says “Regardless of what it is that they write, as men get older they become veteran writers. As women get older, they get invisible … part of this is to do with the fact that women’s writing has always been seen as lesser in one way or another. If a man writes about relationships, he is writing about the universal condition and needs to be praised. If women write about relationships they are writing chick lit and everything they do is slightly diminished because of that.” 

In her book “A Question of Age” (a slightly hysterical rant against societal attitudes to ageing women), Jacinta Parsons says “there is no blood test to diagnose the condition of oldness. Instead, like all the worst kinds of shonky medical procedures, it’s a backyard job – a clumsy, cultural happening.” This kind of statement reinforces the idea that getting old is a disease, against which we’re powerless to fight. But to counter ageism in ourselves and others, we should stop seeing the effects of age as afflictions or accepting assumptions that age diminishes our worth.

Feeling ignored, overlooked or marginalised because of our age, as many women report, is especially distressing when we are complicit in judging ourselves as having less to offer. An article in The Sydney Morning Herald quotes Jacinta Parsons talking about what prompted her to write her book. She relates an incident that sparked her concerns. During a lively conversation she was having with a young woman, the young woman said to her “oh my goodness, I really love you; I wish you were my mum”. This shocked Parsons who’d been seeing herself as the young woman’s contemporary. It represented for her a sudden sobering confrontation with her age. When comparing ourselves to younger women or suddenly catching sight of ourselves in a mirror or a shop window, makes us cringe, we’re playing into the societal depreciation of ageing. What advantages the young woman Parsons mentions might have had in physical attractiveness, vivacity, gregariousness, would have been more than compensated for by the wisdom, maturity and empathy of the older woman. Instead of recoiling in horror at the word “mum”, Jacinta Parsons should have relished the fact that the young woman felt so drawn to her.

To counter the dispiriting tone of some of the above,  K.W. Colyard writes in an article in Bustle called “6 Women Writers Who Published Their First Book After They Turned 70” we should be reminding ourselves we still have time to achieve our dreams. As examples, she compiled a list of six older women writers “who didn’t let others’ expectations determine what they could accomplish”. Some of the writers she includes are as follows:

Mary Wesley, although she’d written several children’s books, published her first adult novel (“Jumping the Queue“) in 1983 when she was 71. She went on to write seven more novels, showing as Wikipedia notes, “the focus and drive of a young person“. The most famous of these was “The Camomile Lawn” which was adapted for television. 

Anne Youngson published her first novel (“Meet Me At The Museum“) at 70. An article in The Guardian reports that when Youngson was told her book had been accepted for publication, she worried that if the publishers met her and discovered how old she was, they’d change their minds! But on the contrary, her novel was shortlisted for the Costa First Novel award, and she’s gone on to publish two more novels.

Harriet Doerr first published “Stones for Ibarra“, which was nominated for the Los Angeles Times Fiction Award and the National Book Award, when she was 74. She continued her career with the publication of another novel and a collection of short stories. “Stones for Ibarra” was adapted for television in 1988.

Lorna Page published her first novel, “A Dangerous Weakness” in 2008 at the age of 93. According to an article in “The Guardian“, she is one of the oldest debut authors on record. 

According to an article in “The Washington Times” Delana Close published her first book “The Rock House” when she was 95. What’s even more extraordinary, it took her 63 years to write! Manuscripts can devour the years, as I know, but this is amazing.

Top of the list for oldest debut woman author, as recorded by the Guinness Book of Records, is Bertha Wood, publishing her first book “Fresh Air and Fun: the Story of a Blackpool Holiday Camp“ at 100. 

These examples of older women pursuing their dreams regardless of age are the very definition of age-affirming. That they don’t fit the mould of first-time authors, hasn’t impeded them in the least. For me, it’s truly uplifting to see these women whose faces are etched with so much character, wisdom, and self-belief, being celebrated for their accomplishments.

Becca Levy quotes a poem written by Henry Longfellow for the 50th reunion of his class at Bowdoin College. Although a man addressing men, his sentiments apply to us all.

It is too late! Ah, nothing is too late

Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate. . . .

Chaucer, at Woodstock with the nightingales,

At sixty wrote the Canterbury Tales;

Goethe at Weimar, toiling to the last,

Completed Faust when eighty years were past. . . .

What then? Shall we sit idly down and say

The night hath come; it is no longer day? . . .

Something remains for us to do or dare;

Even the oldest tree some fruit may bear; . . .

For age is opportunity no less

Than youth itself, though in another dress,

And as the evening twilight fades away

The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.