Waaay after 40, and it wasn’t quick, I’ll tell you that for nothing. So let’s get that out of the way because not even I can start faking that I’m this disciplined creative woodland fairy type, who wakes up at 5 a.m. with a green juice in hand, and joy all over my face as I look over my easily completable checklist. Hell no.
Half the time I wake up mad that my bed isn’t steps from a sunny beach, and even madder at my mum for having the nerve to raise me with stupid morals instead of the will to just go ahead and do something strange for a little change. Really, Mum?
But I digress.
Now where was I? Oh yeah, finishing my projects—or a project—took me forever! Unnecessarily long, to be honest.
And yes, obviously, the humdrum of life got in the way. Life is always life-ing, just out there rolling the dice on the good and the bad, the calm and chaotic, while simultaneously draining willpower and wallets.
But also? Sometimes it wasn’t life. Sometimes it was plain ol’ me.
Getting stuck
And when I got stuck, and we all get stuck, I didn’t always do the healthy thing. Like sit down and work through the hard part. Wouldn’t always take a reasonable pause to problem-solve like a reasonable adult.
Nope, my pauses multiple turned into quits.
And I didn’t acknowledge it until much, much later because there was nothing dramatic about them. No dashing my laptop into a corner. Loudly stating that I wasn’t cut out for this so why bother. It was more like I simply wandered off, a little too far, with cute and comforting sayings to myself like, “I’ll come back in a few days, this needs some space.”
Then a few days became weeks. It never surprises me how assignments so quickly slip in and fill up your once abundant open space. Suddenly it was three months later, and I was acting like my own project was an old friend who knew I’d text back at some point, so they’d be cool waiting just a little longer. My brain loves vibes, overthinking—but it really sings at the idea of finishing. Yet gets suspiciously silent when it’s time to do the actual finishing.
Lesson One: Getting stuck isn’t the issue — Ignoring it is
Each time I returned to my writing, I felt renewed with better ideas, which also covered over my excuses for dragging my feet on something I was passionate about completing. With my 2024 word of the year: COMPLETE, that became the kick in the tits I needed. Even then, the dragging of COMPLETE spilled into 2025. It’s ok, it’s ok.
By the end of 2024, all that delaying hit me hard: I realized that even if I had typed the first word of chapter 1 on 1/1/2025, I would have still finished when I did, at 10pm-ish, 12/31/2025. So much time had been wasted—and for what?
Working backwards
And what did I learn to do for me? Work backwards from the endgame I truly wanted — not just from my new deadline.
I straight up asked myself: what does the end product really look like? Not some fantasy version where I’m interviewed on a tasteful podcast while shouting out names of all my peeps who inspired me. No, the real version: my printed book on shelves.
And that needs what? A solid proofread copy.
And that proofread copy needs what? A solid draft that’s been critiqued by beta readers.
And the beta reader copy needs what? For me to bloody well finish! To finally exist instead of me moving the goalposts.
Once I could see the end clearly—the old reverse-engineer steps in my head—wandering around creatively for years was no longer cute. It was Yo-Momma ugly.
Reflecting on wasted time
Uncomfortable truth incoming: I had more time now than I used to.
My kiddos are older. They don’t need me in the same relentless, sticky-fingered way, with me constantly yelling, “Little girl, if you don’t put that down!”
So this ‘more time on my hands’ had to be used wisely.
And using time wisely still includes rest, quiet, and binge-watching anything recommended by my streaming-soul mates—the ones whose 10/10 recs are never to be missed. But constant binging and/or becoming one with the couch ain’t the Big Age dream life I envisioned.
That real space—a rare gap, a free undistracted afternoon—I let float by. Now I’m beating myself up because I didn’t seize it. When you don’t choose to use it, you lose it.
Change is growth
Also, my project (my book) changed. A lot.
Being a ‘becoming writer’ means some lessons you learn along the way, and some you can’t. So I cut out parts I couldn’t figure out. My book changed, but that was fine—I liked this approach and the momentum. Re-envisioning isn’t cheating. It’s growing. The project becomes better because you became better. You’ve lived a little more, learned a little more, been through more than your share of shit.
With my working backwards approach, focus shifted. It stopped being about passion and became about commitment—to the next step. Not grind-set style, but self-respect. Respecting my own time, and my print-baby.
I could finally commit more time to me
Another lovely thing about getting older: you start becoming the main character again. My mum hat is permanent, bolted on even. But advice-mum is different from all-day-all-the-time-mum. I love my girls, I’m still needed, but I’m not disappearing inside the role anymore, or yelling, “Little girl, if you don’t put that down!”
There is room again. And that room matters—and she’s all mine. Who’s going to stop you but you?
And I’m not worried too too much about failure. Failure isn’t as heavy anymore. At my big age, it feels more like information. Okay. That didn’t work. Try again. Try something else. But completion? That’s the kicker. Not completing those tossed-aside passions leaves you with nowhere left to hide. Unless you can detach from your thoughts.
And finally… there are no more excuses.
Not because life isn’t hard (I wish!), or responsibilities don’t exist—but at some point, you realize: if you want it, you have to choose it. Over and over. In the boring or slow bits. In showing up even when you don’t really feel like it. But once you start, it all takes off.
Now, I’d be lying like a rug if I didn’t say finishing after 40 isn’t about proving something to myself—because it is. Proving that I can (and did) do it. That I’m still here. I still want things. And I’m ready, delusional, and just going for it.
Are you?
