My 18th year was a good one. I won an Australian Junior Title and reached a world ranking of 390 after playing a few Open events. If someone said to me, 'Pat, enjoy it while it lasts because this is the best you'll ever do at tennis' I would have told them they were crazy. I was 17! Surely my best years were in front of me.
They weren't.
Fast forward twenty years and my writing career is going nicely. The Tuckshop Kid has picked up a CBCA Honour award, I've got three books coming out in 2008, more school visits than I can say yes to, The Line Formation about to be released in North America titled Out of His League, and somehow I'm being paid to act in front of a bunch of little kids after adapting Beeware to the stage.
Then the GFC hits and things change. Last year I had one book out, The Trophy Kid, 55 days of school visits (which isn't bad), and next year a return to teaching in some sort of capacity is looking increasingly likely. Does this worry me? A little. I'd be happy to never teach Year 9 English again.
But what will be will be.
Just like an epic novel, life has many ups and downs. Not even Federer can stay number 1 forever. But 25 years after my 17th birthday I'm playing some decent tennis again. In fact, I'm pretty sure my 42-year-old self could beat my 17-year-old self and that's something I'm grateful for. (Although the standard is higher these days so I was still better comparatively back then.) I'm reasonably optimistic about the future of the book industry, too. Once the E-dust settles someone will figure out a way to make writing stories profitable again and things might be even better than they were in 2007.
In the meantime, I try to enjoy each day, especially the small successes. You never know, today might be as good as it gets!
But maybe not. In 25 years time, it might be better still.
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