It's Never Too Late and You're Never Too Old

The Creative Goods, Issue No. 1

Welcome to the first issue of The Creative Goods, a feminist and justice-based advice column for creators with conundrums, written by me, Jill Margo. Through this monthly column, I offer suggestions, commiseration, and reassurance, particularly to creators (such as writers, artists, and musicians) at any level who’ve been most impacted by patriarchy and other forms of oppression.

My hope is that this column will also have a thriving comments section, made possible by the Substack platform. You’re welcome and encouraged to chime in with your own suggestions, commiseration, and reassurance because we are stronger together.

Thanks for being here. Enjoy!

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Dear Jill,

I’m a painter who is about to turn freaking fifty. One kid has graduated already and the other will graduate next year. I’m in the privileged position of having a partner with a good income and have recently transitioned from full-time work to part-time work. Now that I’m working part-time, I’m supposed to be making art and seeing if I can turn it into a legit side hustle (though we can get by without the money). I’ve had a few shows in the past and people (not just my dad) ask me often enough how they can buy my work. The problem is that the asshole voice inside my head keeps telling me I’m too old and that it’s too late. I can’t help but think that if I was going to make something of myself as an artist I would’ve already. Plus, I’m tired from raising kids and working a soul-sucking job and depressed by the news too. I’m worried that I won’t make any art, but will fester away watching all the Netflix and listening to all the true crime podcasts, ya know? And oh god, am I going to have to learn how to use TikTok?

Signed,

49 & Not Feeling Fine (she/her)

Dear 49 & Not Feeling Fine,

Have you ever heard of Grandma Moses a.k.a. Anna Mary Robertson? Even if you haven’t, you’d probably recognize her distinctive style of folk art. Born in 1860 in Greenwich, New York, Anna began doing farm chores for wealthy neighbours at the ripe old age of 12. By 27, she’d married the “hired man” who worked at the same farm as her. They then spent nearly two decades living and working on farms before buying their own. To supplement their income, Anna made potato chips and churned butter. She also gave birth to ten children, five of whom survived infancy. After Anna’s husband had a heart attack in his sixties and bought the metaphorical farm, she continued to run the literal farm with the help of her son. Finally, at 76, Anna retired and moved to Hoosick Falls, New York to live with her daughter. That same year, 1936, Anna’s sister suggested she try painting because Anna’s hands had become too arthritic for embroidery. Anna herself said she started painting because she wanted to make the postman a Christmas gift and it “was easier to make [a painting] than to bake a cake over a hot stove.”

Two years later, a visiting art collector saw Anna’s paintings in a drugstore window in Hoosick Falls and sought Anna out. By the 1950s Anna’s exhibitions broke attendance records around the world and she was honoured for her work by U.S. President Truman. She died at age 101 having gotten to live for a quarter of a century as an artist.

What’s important to understand is that art-making wasn’t a late-in-life conversion for Anna. As a child, she used berry and grape juices to paint landscapes on newsprint her father brought home. In lieu of small brushes, she used pins and matchsticks. She was clearly an artist. But as soon as she began working there was no room for art in her life with all that manual labour and all those hungry mouths. It was only after she had retired and moved in with her daughter that Anna had the time and resources to paint—to recover her quintessential self and manifest a childhood dream.

So, unless we’re talking about Olympic sports or menstrual cycles, it’s never too late and you’re never too old. But it goes deeper than that.

Maybe, just maybe, 49&NFF, you haven’t “made something” of yourself as an artist yet because, like Grandma Moses, you simply haven’t had the time and resources—the privilege, as you’ve already identified. Women have been told that we can have it all, but it just isn’t true. You blame yourself without acknowledging how hard it is to make art under capitalism, which only gets harder when you add in the immense labour of child-rearing. Maybe you were so busy tending other people’s needs—something women are particularly conditioned to do—that you didn’t tend to your own. Maybe, after trying to figure out what to feed your family for the umpteenth time—besides cereal—you just didn’t have any bandwidth left.

But now the conditions have changed, you have a shot. Don’t listen to that asshole voice in you head—the Inner Oppressor, as I call them—who tells you that you’re too old and it’s too late.

Yes, we live in an ageist society, yes, women will always be at risk of being called “too” something, yes, that sucks. But you mustn’t let that excuse you from the vulnerability of beginning again, of returning to your art, otherwise oppression wins. You must, as I like to say, learn to shine your damn light anyway.

Now, let’s get practical. I want to give you some actionable suggestions for moving forward based on the things you said in your letter.

SUGGESTION 1: DETOX FROM HUSTLE CULTURE | One of the manifestations of late-stage capitalism is the veneration of hustle/grind culture. It’s so pernicious that someone simply doing the job they were hired to do and declining to go above and beyond for no reward is now at risk of being accused of “quiet quitting”. I’m going to urge you to uncouple your expectations for your creative practice from this culture.

You say you’d like to turn your art into a side hustle. I would like to invite you to strike that expression from your vocabulary. Why? Because hustle culture is rooted in capitalism, ableism, patriarchy, and white supremacy (the word hustle is even considered to be a linguistic appropriation from Black culture as a word that’s been associated with what it means to work as a Black person who has no choice but to hustle harder). It’s also exhausting.

I want to invite you to reframe one more thing while we’re on the topic. If anything, your part-time job is your side gig, not your creative practice, which is now your primary focus.

Detoxing from hustle culture requires a shift in mindset. For example, at The Creative Good we replace the word “productive” with the word “generative” and we focus on process, not product. Another thing: we practice deliberate imperfection, rather than trying to be perfect. And we don’t overwork! We work within our capacity and don’t ask more of ourselves than that.

SUGGESTION 2: AUDIT AND INCREASE THE QUALITY OF YOUR INPUTS | I hear in your letter how burnt-out you are, so you’re going to need to go slow and be very gentle with yourself until you get some energy back. It’s when we’re burnt out that we want to watch all the Netflix or listen to all the true crime podcasts (if we’re not already doom scrolling). Or, as a friend of mine recently confessed, we might even find ourselves reading long articles about a reality tv show we’ve never seen and don’t even care about. This numbing behaviour mutes the overwhelm and overflow of emotions. It’s not inherently bad to want to check out. Checking out gives our brains a break. Getting stuck there is a problem though.

One way of ensuring that we don’t get stuck is to consider the input we’re receiving. Inputs are crucial to any creator, and we need to ensure that we’re receiving high quality inputs that resource us and keep “the well” full. Most obviously, input comes from the culture we consume (think books, art, films music, podcasts, etc.) that inspires and stimulates us. But I think input also comes from ourselves and others. It’s about how we talk to and treat ourselves and recharge. It’s also the support we receive that helps us feel resourced—be that from coaching, instruction, positive feedback, encouragement, or anything else that is poured into us.

Tending to your inputs will help you feel like your cup is full enough that you can pour some of it into your creative practice.

SUGGESTION 3: DEVELOP A VISION | As you start to recover your energy, I recommend developing a vision for yourself and your practice. Here are some questions that you might start answering on paper:

• What do I absolutely love creating?

• What do I want to be known for?

• What do I want to offer?

• How does my work relate to my story?

• What makes my approach/work special?

• What are the values behind my work?

• What opportunities would I like to generate?

• Who do I want to attract and connect with?

• What does my ideal creative practice look like?

Your vision will become refined over time as you iterate but engaging with these questions will give you a place to start.

SUGGESTION 4: BEGIN A DISCOVERY PHASE | Of course, clarity comes from engagement. So, I’m going to recommend you pick up your paintbrushes and begin a discovery phase, which is a period of time in which you play, experiment, explore, practice, research, and so on to help you decide where you want to go to next. Think of it as a pre-project project that will give you more information and allow you to test your ideas, prototype, gather information, document, and reflect. This time is just for you—there’s no need to feel pressure or to share (but if, like Grandma Moses, you want to make a painting for your letter carrier for Christmas, go for it).

You’ll know when you’ve come to the end of your discovery phase because you’ll want to start setting project goals, which means you’re going to need a sustainable creative practice.

SUGGESTION 5: ESTABLISH A SUSTAINABLE CREATIVE PRACTICE | Inspiration doesn’t get things done, habits do. A collection of habits is called a system. And the wonderful thing about a system is that you can set your goals, and then rely on your system to achieve them. This is called a systems-first mentality and it keeps us focused on process, not product. We can be satisfied not just when we achieve a goal, but when our system is humming along too.

So let me introduce you to The Three Good Habits, which can form your system:

1. Make art for at least 15 minutes a day (most days).

2. Prioritize three small, strategic weekly tasks—a.k.a. “triorities”.

3. Review and plan regularly.

There’s a lot to unpack with these habits and both my planner and Follow-through Sessions fully integrate them. In brief though, Habit 1 is less about what are you make and more about making sure you always have a “container” that’s dedicated to making art. Habit 2 asks you to keep sight of the big picture and to do what matters most, step by little step. Habit 3 is a key way to stay accountable and focused.

I’m telling you about these habits here so you have a place to start, should you wish. Of course, there’s no one way to establish a creative practice, but this is the best way I personally know how, and I’ve seen it do wonders for the folks I work with.

How are you feeling now 49&NFF? I hope you’re feeling a spark in your belly. I hope fear is being replaced by curiosity and that you can see a gentle way forward. I hope you can see that creative practice doesn’t to have be a hustle; it’s a form of self-care because doing it makes our lives better. Make your life better, friend, one tiny brushstroke at a time.

Much love & good things,

Jill