A 50’s Debut

Several years back, I started having a strong desire to create characters I stayed with in a longer format. Funnily enough, it was at the same time I started perimenopause, although I didn’t know that then. The connection is ironic; just when my brain was becoming more disconnected, chaotic, and less able to remain in one thought without skipping to the next or forgetting the thought completely, I felt the need to explore deeply one idea to its fullest potential.

Sitting inside the head of a character and giving myself pages to develop their thoughts is something screenplays don’t lend themselves to, which was my training. My own life was mimicking this phenomenon with each of my sons growing up and leaving home. Some hours in the day felt like overwhelming oceans of time. I could ‘do’ more. Then I found myself waking up earlier, body clock shifting.

It’s a cruel joke on women as we squeeze every last minute out of slumber whilst raising kids, to then naturally get up closer to the sun’s cycle when they are grown. And the night sweats that no one speaks of turn the middle of the night into a fairground for every thought in your head, having their own go on the rollercoaster. So, things were changing from the inside out regardless of my external circumstances it seemed.

Having the word ‘debut’ next to anything in your 50s is terrifying; I’d love to see the emoji for imposter syndrome! I’ve spent the last twenty-five years being a full-time mom of four boys and I did it with my whole heart and yes, most of my time. I wouldn’t change a thing, thank god, and now here I am, starting something new which brings a lot of fear and uncertainty.

It feels like a strange choice in some ways. My body is already doing whacky double-back flips in weird directions I didn’t orchestrate, so why add an emotional ride as well? But writing has always been my access point for my creativity. When I was an actress just after college, I turned to writing to feel worthy, inspired, and constructive. That led to writing my own roles and I found myself being judged by what I had to say and not just how I looked, which was refreshing.

Writing made me feel empowered. It was always right there, free of charge, and got me through tough times of loneliness as a young mom who still wanted to connect with the world outside her beyond diapers and dummies. I’d sit on the park bench watching the boys, yes – of course, but also watching people, making up stories in my head about who they were, what they were thinking.

If I could sit in a restaurant and get away with just staring and eavesdropping on others, I absolutely would. My husband jokes that I talk to everyone around us when we’re out. Sure I’m friendly by nature, but I’m also always curious about the nuances of other people. No doubt most writers are. It keeps me thinking, imagining characters, playing with fiction, and of course, it justifies my staring.

This stage of womanhood is tricky. My body is fighting me to change my habits. Sometimes I listen, sometimes I don’t. Again, it’s not lost on me that menopause – which does indeed require a refocusing on oneself – is happening when my youngest is a senior in high school and I will, by default, have more time to spend on myself. But aside from acupuncture, Pilates, body rollers, and other various strap-on items that aren’t pornographic but good for your back instead, sigh, is the road to doing something new.

The ‘debut’ part. In my world I have friends in their fifties who are directing for the first time, painting and selling their art for the first time, opening businesses, producing documentaries, starting non-profits, regenerating farms… it’s pretty incredible. They are tackling the emotional whirlwind of hormones and saggier skin with a power and wisdom you only achieve through the years spent on this planet. Dare I say it feels good to celebrate those years and stop apologizing for them, and the lines on our faces.

When I found out my book was getting published, I broke out into a sweat. I had to laugh. It was a hormone rush that left me ecstatic and completely in touch with my age. The morning of my onboarding Zoom call with the publisher, I put on more make-up than usual, tamed my wild hair, and from the waist up made a real effort.

While I was in the online waiting room, I didn’t notice that my camera was set to a filter called Snap Camera – something I use to joke around with my online Spanish teacher. The publisher let me into her Zoom room and when I introduced myself – my greatest moment as an author meeting her publisher for the first time – I realized that my face had hundreds of sparkles all over it and I was wearing butterfly wings. The cultivated moment I worked so hard for was now of a nut job portraying a member of a girl band from the ’90s. 

There is no doubt the universe is smiling upon me having my debut novel published the day I drop my last son off at college. Literally. If ever there was a sign for me to recalibrate and hold onto, it is this. Life’s lessons aren’t always this obvious for sure, but when they are loud and clear, it is our job to listen up. The insanity of emotions I feel about empty nesting, the menopausal changes rushing through me constantly, and the desire to push my boundaries because I’m in my fifties, not despite it, all coincide with everything I’ve learned so far in this life about wisdom and gratitude and not sweating the small stuff. It’s a crazy ride but I’m definitely in the front seat. Thank goodness, because I do get pretty carsick in the back.

—

Born and raised in Los Angeles, Jennifer Hamm graduated with a BA in English at UCLA and began her writing career developing screenplays for movies and television. As a travel writer, she has covered the globe on assignment for various magazines and brands. She also writes It’s Only for A Year, a long-running blog chronicling her adventures raising her four boys in two countries. Hamm currently splits her time between London and Los Angeles. One Friday in Napa is her first novel.

ONE FRIDAY IN NAPPA

Vene feels like she and her mother have always been at odds—since she was a child, the first word she used to describe Olivia was “cold.” When news of her mother’s imminent death comes, Vene returns to her family’s home in Napa to see if their strained relationship can be mended, only to find Olivia as harsh as ever and their reconciliation seemingly unreachable.

But when Vene stumbles upon Olivia’s old cookbook, she discovers a passion within her mother she didn’t know existed. The clipped tone and quick judgments of her dying mother don’t match the young woman whose voice she finds between the pages—one that tells a story of romance, longing, duty, and aching heartbreak. Curiosity consumes Vene, and she embarks on an intimate journey to learn about the Olivia she never got to meet—before it’s too late.

A captivating story told in alternating perspectives a half-century apart, One Friday in Napa explores the pains and joys of devotion as two women learn the price of loyalty, the power of secrets, and the meaning of sacrifice.

BUY HERE

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing