It’s Not Too Late to Start

I grew up naturally talented at math and science. Like, annoying Hermione Granger talented. The kind of talent that makes teachers say things like, “You're gonna go far, kid.” and classmates say “Can I cheat off of your test?” But here’s the thing about talent: people act like those who have it are some kind of prodigy. But all it really means is that you learn faster than average. That’s it. Talent’s the fast-pass line to understanding, not the destination itself. You don’t necessarily need it to be great at something. For that, you just need practice and persistence.

For some perspective, during my last year at Estero High, I was literally setting the curve in my classes. Sorry to everyone who remembers Mr. Stewart’s 2008 physics final—yeah, the one where I accidentally broke the curve. I think I got a 120%. The dude said the top score would count as 100%, but I couldn’t stop there, no. Apparently my brain needed the dopamine hit of nailing every single extra credit question. Why? No clue. Probably the same reason I alphabetize my spice rack and then immediately forget where I put the Adobo.

Still, even while I breezed through STEM classes, I had this itch to just make things. Draw. Play guitar. Build model kits. DIY anything that could be taken apart and barely put back together again. That creative bugger was always trying to get out. But I was talented at STEM, so I convinced myself to focus my energy there and force my creativity to be no more than just a hobby.

As graduation approached and I started applying to the many universities of Florida, my dream wasn’t to be some uber-detail-oriented engineer half-asleep and face-first in a spreadsheet. I wanted to be a 3D animator. I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d help make a new Star Wars movie someday. Wouldn’t that be amazing?! However, when I got accepted into the University of Florida—a top-ten public university (🔸🔷Go Gators🔶🔹)—I found out they didn’t even have a proper animation program. I’d have to major in computer science and just “figure it out from there.” That felt like a strike against the dream. Then I told myself, “Well, they’re probably done making Star Wars movies, anyway. They did just finish the last move, Episode III.” Oh, sweet summer child. I understood that to be strike two. And then, for reasons still unknown to modern science, I gave myself strike three. Just—poof—no hope left. Creative dream over.

So I did what seemed logical at the time: I opened a spreadsheet. My dad and I built a table of every major offered at UF and ranked them by average starting salary, difficulty, and credit hours. Chemical Engineering was the major that came out on top. Prerequisite: be talented at chemistry and even more talented at math. Check and check. Challenge accepted. Never mind that I had no idea what an engineer actually did. I thought I’d find out eventually (spoiler alert: it took me until my internship in the summer of 2012 to actually learn that aspect.) But I stuck with it. Graduated with honors. Built a career. Figured out how to find pride in what I do.

Despite all that—something clicked when I celebrated my 33rd birthday in Minnesota with my family and late grandmother. Like an old engine that coughed and finally turned over after years of ignoring the check-engine light. I realized it’s not too late to start the thing my heart just wouldn’t shut up about. I had stories to tell and a legacy I wanted to leave behind. Truths to share that were bigger than myself. So I made the commitment to learn to write, and eventually write a novel.

At first I thought, “thirty-three feels a little old to start writing a debut novel.” It’s the kind of age where you think to yourself, "If I was good at this, I'd have done it by now. Don’t all of the famous artists out there hit their stride before they even turn twenty-two?" But during that week in Minnesota, I decided to forget about talent and take a shot at seeing what practice and persistence—and most importantly, passion—could get me. I’m still an engineer by trade, but getting my stories out there has become my calling.

So here I am, an engineer turned aspiring author, writing my first novel.

Maybe this post is just my way of saying: if there’s something calling you, something you’ve convinced yourself it’s too late for… it’s not. You’re not too late.

It's only ever too late if you stop believing you can begin.