I’m starting with leaves as a symbol, because it’s relevant to what I want to convey in this post. I find autumn and winter quite dismal if I focus on what I’m losing, but these seasons also bring change, mystery, preservation, and as with the trees, it’s a period of preparation for spring and new growth. Provided you spend it in a place you like, wintering can be profittable.
I knew I hadn’t posted anything in a long time, but I was surprised to find out that it was as far back as November 2020. I made a conscious decision then to take a break, partly because it was too demanding when I had another project that required all my attention, and partly because I was a little disillusioned at the lack of progress in NLD research.
I sent a couple of emails to Jodene Fine, assistant professor at Michigan State University, in 2015 and 2018, and I think it was corteous of her two responde to both. I was hopeful then, expecting something to happen after decades of research that didn’t seem to lead to anything. After all, this started with a chapter Helmer Myklebust wrote together with Doris Johnson in a 1967 book on learning disorders. He followed that up with an article in 1975, so there’s at least 55 years of history. Shouldn’t we have come farther by now? I was disillusioned, because during a period that produced promising results I thought something positive was about to happen, but the excitement vanished everywhere.
The project I’ve devoted all my time to since my previous post is writing fiction, specifically the first volume in a four book fantasy series. I’m currently working on submitting the manuscript to publishers and literary agents, at the same time as I’m going back to editing. This is also a source of disappointment, because it’s so hard to succeed.
I’ve been more active on another blog, where I focus on topics related to writing, as well as general musings, and a post I published yesterday made me remember this blog again. I was trying to explain a possible doubt some people might have concerning the reason they struggle to keep up as they age, and I’m not talking about the general decay that comes with old age. I’m talking about the change in strenghts and weaknesses as NLDers grow older. We may start with a negligible difference in childhood, but it becomes clearer later, and the explanation given is usually that our strengths develop normally with age, as you’d expect, while weak sides develop at a much slower pace, or even stagnate. The result is a widening gap between the two, and it may appear that the challenges are getting worse. The end result is much the same, as one is likely to struggle more later in life. So, people might ask themselves some questions, such as why does it get harder to keep up? Is it because the general pace of life increases, is it because it happens to everyone as they grow older, or does it have something to do with the gap between strong and weak sides?
People could also ask themselves whether their own decisions made it worse. Should they have done something differently in the past? Then there’s the question of what constitutes success and failure. When I think back I’ve made a few of both. Work is problematic to many of us, which leads to a lot of grief. Unfortunately, I wasn’t an exception, but on the other hand I passed all the courses I took through 5,5 years in college, and it was during those years I met my wife. That probably wouldn’t have happened had I chosen a different path. I’ve done well on some areas, maybe in what really matters, although there’s been things that made life hard.
I’m trying to establish a career as an author to replace the one I lost, and so far trying is the operative word. That career is clearly a WIP, but I’m not giving up. I’ve asked myself on several occasions whether it would be that bad if I never succeeded. I have a family after all, which makes it even more important that I handle disappointment. To answer the question, it would and it wouldn’t. My story is great and it’d be a shame if it was never read. This isn’t my only motivation, because I also have a need to show that I can. That doesn’t become less important after a lifetime of people assuming the opposite. Maybe I needed decades of experiences to do what I’m doing now? I was a failure in school. That’s how most people saw me at least, but I’ve made some strides in that area at least. I guess I want to show that I’m more than an NLDer is supposed to be, that even research papers from universities like Columbia and Michigan State didn’t get everything right (such as studying adults)
I’m trying not to entertain the disturbing thought that I may never get published. It’s happened to so many others, and even J. K. Rowling’s success was a coincidence. I’ve seen people in other fields as well that turned bitter when their dreams shattered. I was only eleven years old when my father died, and I didn’t know him that well, but I suspect he was one of those that felt defeated by life. It’d be a devastating disappointment to come this far, much farther than my father did, and still be forced to give up my dreams, but maybe it helps that I don’t expect immediate success.
I know from previous experiences how hard it is to succeed. After completing my manuscript, submitting it to publishers and literary agents, and done some more editing, I’m at a stage now where my energy isn’t quite what it was a while ago. It’s been hard focusing lately, but my new strategy is to work on the manuscript for an hour every day. That should at least help when I can’t do the long hours I did earlier in this project. I’m taking the long way around, which of course takes a lot more time, but I don’t have much choice. Do I have time to achieve my goals? It’s not guaranteed at all, but I’m still hopeful. Disappointment is a possibility we all face, but I’m determined not to blame someone else, and let hurt develop into bitterness. I’m quite experienced in that area, which could be why I’ve successfully dealt with setbacks for many years.
Still, I hope I’ll be allowed to deal with success in the near future.
I am more 