Screw your courage!

Becoming visible and voiced after sixty

After years of dreaming, planning, and quietly working away behind the screens as it were, at 64, I have set up a publishing company with my wonderful friend, Jen Hyatt, who is also in her sixties. This may seem bold, but to us it feels natural.

We want to celebrate women’s voices — especially those who feel it’s already too late. Because believe me, we’ve been made to feel past it, and had our confidence trampled by youthful disdain. But enough is enough.

Starting Fingerprint Editions in our 60s may sound daunting, but it’s born simply from the courage of desperation — from the deep frustration of waiting for others to make things happen for us as readers and writers. From being too often overlooked as elders.

Both Jen and I are debut novelists. Both of us have been agented. Both of us have made it into the top 6% of the prestigious Bridport Prize. I was short-listed for the Jenny Brown Associates Debut Novel Over 50 Award.

Yet, both of us experienced rejection after rejection.

One of the superpowers of menopause is a growing feeling of self-worth. So despite that rejection, we still knew our worth as writers. The question, therefore, became one of accepting that we didn’t fit (both of our novels are to a greater or lesser extent experimental) or being patient.

But what if we didn’t wait?

What if we pushed back?

What if we took a lesson from younger generations and just put ourselves out there and to hell with the consequences?

What if we created the space we wished to exist — not only for our own work, but for the work of other women who deserve to be heard? Old and young, but particularly those whose stories, like ours, don’t always find an easy home in traditional publishing.

It was time to be bold. Easy for me to say, I was taking the leap with a treasured friend. But maybe developing a creative collaboration can be your silver bullet too if you’re feeling hesitant. Sisters not only doing it for themselves, as Annie Lennox would have it, but for, and with, each other.

By nature, I’m shy, yet if I look back on my life, I see that I am also intrepid. It’s important to recognise that strength. Modesty, I’ve come to realise, serves no one. The opposite isn’t inevitably brashness; the opposite can be inspiration. Now, boldness is my watchword.

Fingerprint Editions takes this idea and relishes it, operating under the banner ‘Bold Works by Bold Women’.

The word ‘bold’ has roots in the Germanic for ‘soon’ and ‘swift’, bringing to mind the rallying cry, ‘If not now, when?’ Perhaps courage is simply the opposite of patience or procrastination.

It often is for me.

So, what does bold mean to us?

Bold is a stepping beyond the norms, philosophies and constraints of society. Bold is speaking or writing in new ways, because that’s what our stories deserve.

You may have your own definitions. If so, I’d love to hear them.

Ultimately, bold means being confident to do things differently and believing others will benefit from that.

For instance, we believe that books deserve to be launched with more than an interview and a tepid glass of wine. As such, we’ll celebrate each author with an ‘opening’ — an event (anything from art installations to guided meditations through a botanical garden) which stimulates reflection on the main theme of their work. Check out our first ones here.

This (ad)venture is not only a labour of love but a response to the need for spaces outside commercial imperatives and neat definition. A place where consideration is given to ethics, interesting backstories, and life’s complexities and joys. A place to be bold and to nurture that spirit in others.

Somewhere where nothing matters except an appreciation for words well used. And somewhere where it’s O.K. to try and fail because failing just means an edit and a rewrite. And isn’t that a great metaphor to help us screw our courage to the sticking post.

So why now?

When I chat to friends as they transition into elderhood, concerns around voice and legacy always surface. Now more than ever, we need to speak up for what matters to us.

Many feel they become physically invisible with age — though I wouldn’t say I feel that myself, one of the benefits of never having drawn attention. But all the more reason to raise our voices!

Think of women like Meryl Streep, Annie Lennox, and Emma Thompson, who are positively raging despite already being overtly visible (if that’s not an oxymoron). It might seem easier for them, but speaking up is important even if it’s only to our closest friends.

Words shared become a breath, become a breeze — blustering and blowing around the world. And they may just find someone who needs to know it’s O.K. to be loud.

And what of legacy?

For a woman without children, this is a weighted question. I will leave no automatic genetic legacy stretching ahead for all the ages, but I yearn to pass something on. I now have a glimmer of what that will be.

What kind of world do you envision in a year from now? In ten? In a hundred? Let that be your curiosity and your guide.

For me, it’s a world still full of books — reading neutralises fear, engenders empathy, and encourages thought. What better way to be a good ancestor than to bring words to life?

Which brings me to a second, and far scarier, piece of news: my debut novel The Rest is Silence, will be published later this year. It’s a novel of quiet emotions that’s lived in me for a long time. It’s finally time for its voice to be heard even if this feels way more daunting than starting a business at sixty-four.

On days when I feel vulnerable about exposing myself in this way, I remember my teenage self. The girl who, when someone said, ‘Let’s …’ would always say, ‘Why not?’