Growing old creatively

AS his 80th year approached, Helensburgh author Robin Lloyd-Jones had the idea of consulting other Scottish authors over the age of 70 on their thoughts about remaining creative in later life. The 20 interviews he conducted appear in this thought-provoking and inspiring book.

Being old has obvious minuses: failing physical stamina and memory, the deaths of contemporaries, the spectre of Alzheimer’s and the increasing awareness of death. But what we want to know about is the plus column, and the interviewees provide plenty of insight in the benefits of being an older writer.

Lloyd-Jones can’t romp around the hills like he used to, but he has noticed compensations: “Slowing down has meant that I now notice and appreciate all sorts of things in the environment around me which, before, I hurried past.” Douglas Dunn has found his “awareness of the transcendental, or sacramental, dimensions of poetry” enhanced. David Donnison says, “I think old age frees you to express things without the pressure to prove anything or meet the expectations of other people.” For Alison Prince, the nearness of death brings greater appreciation of life, but also the need to be choosier about which projects to undertake. “You have to be hard-headed about how you use that time,” she says. And if Carl MacDougall hits a snag when he’s writing, he knows from experience that a solution will present itself.

And let’s not forget grandchildren. There isn’t a grandparent here who won’t attest to the joy and sense of perspective their grandchildren have brought to their lives. One striking thing about this book is how few of its contributors are native Scots. Scotland has clearly been an attractive country to creative souls over the last half-century. One also notices how many of them have embraced meditation, none more avidly than Larry Butler, a Californian Buddhist who now, among other things, runs dance movement therapy workshops. Most agree that age has brought them greater self-knowledge, emotional intelligence, patience and a sense of connectedness. With all these people becoming more mellow and accepting of themselves, Lloyd-Jones feels compelled to ask whether creativity isn’t at least partly dependent on inner conflict and turmoil. Bernard MacLaverty answers that simply by invoking the name “Trump”, and although Pauline Pitt-Prior admits to being a much calmer person now, she “can still get involved with the political”.

Although they are geographically spread out, these authors don’t seem isolated, which is a common concern for older people. They frequently drop each other’s names, some of them are involved with Scottish PEN, the organisation championing free speech, and a few are connected through Larry Butler’s Die-a-Log group, eight people who get together to discuss matters related to death and dying.

In a book so full of collective wisdom, Pitt-Prior’s “I used to think that creativity was just to do with the arts, but now I think it is life itself,” is one of many nuggets worth taking to heart. John Purser’s secret to staying creative into old age is even more concise: “Stay young.”