From my earliest years I had always wanted to be a writer. It was not that I had any particular message for humanity. I am still plugging away and not the ghost of one so far, so it begins to look as though, unless I suddenly hit mid-season form in my eighties, humanity will remain a message short.
P.G. Wodehouse reflects on his lifelong ambition to become a writer, a dream he held from a young age. He admits that he has not yet crafted a significant message for humanity in his works, suggesting a humorously modest view of his literary contributions. Wodehouse notes that time is running out for him to produce profound insights, hinting at the possibility of hitting his stride later in life.
This self-effacing acknowledgment underscores his creative journey, revealing a desire to express himself without the pressure of conveying important messages. Wodehouse's candidness about his writing aspirations and the ongoing struggle for artistic fulfillment adds a relatable layer to his career as an author.
