So… here I am, 40! I made it!
Not once as a child, looking into my future, did I think I’d end up where I am now. The childhood fantasy was meeting the man of my dreams, living in a mansion with loads of kids and plenty of money. The reality of what that actually means? Very different. Disney really did us dirty, didn’t they? Nobody’s living in a castle with prince charming, singing their way through the day and swanning off to balls.
So no castle for me. Instead I got my cheeky little three bed house on a quiet estate, overlooking a beautiful farmer’s field. Which, by the way, is about to have 400 houses plonked on it. Not happy. There’s no ballroom, but there are random trips to Austria, and I’ll give Disney this one, I do still sing my way through most of the day.
40, it turns out, sits somewhere in the middle. Somewhere between the life I was trying to escape growing up, the one you survive rather than enjoy, and the life I’m now working to build around my new found dreams. And honestly? It’s a slog. There’s no prince charming turning up to hand you your dreams on a velvet cushion. You work, you plan, and you get on with it.
What life at 40 actually looks like
Want to know what an average Tuesday looks like at 40? Alarm goes off at 5am so I can squeeze in a workout. Home to make packed lunches, school run, rush to work, more school run, drop Evelyn (my little dancing princess) and her friend at dance, drive to collect Dominic from my mum’s, home to cook tea, clean, and get everything ready to do it all again tomorrow. I don’t actually sit down until 8 or 9pm, and that’s when I try to get some writing done.
Glamorous, right?
Let’s face it, some of us still don’t know what we want to do when we “grow up”. The lucky ones made quick decisions leaving school, stuck it out, and are, I imagine, starting to relax heading into their 40s. Are they though? Or are they just better at hiding it? Honestly, I think it’s quite rare. Most of us are still just trying to figure it out.
But as I get older, I’m getting wiser, and my inner confidence has grown. And with that self awareness, I’ve finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. I want to write. I want to be a writer!
I’ve talked myself out of it so many times that I’m tired of my own excuses. Tired of parking all my ideas and comparing myself to everyone else.
What was really stopping me
So what’s actually been stopping me? If I’m being honest, it wasn’t only time. It was doom scrolling too. That precious hour at 9pm when I could’ve been writing? Yeah, I was scrolling through other people’s highlight reels instead.
And underneath the scrolling was the real one, fear. Fear of putting myself out there and being judged. Fear of someone deciding I’m just not good enough. The world doesn’t exactly hold back on putting you down, and if you let it, it will drag you down with it.
So not starting felt safer. If you never try, nobody can tell you you’re rubbish, right? It saves you the heartache. But then what? You just live with the regret instead. Honestly, I don’t know which is worse.
Actually, that’s a lie. I do know. Regret is worse. Regret doesn’t get smaller as you get older, it just sits there getting heavier.
Because guess what? It doesn’t matter what anyone else is doing. My only competition is the version of me from yesterday. She’s the only one I should be comparing myself to.
Finally calling myself a writer
So when did I become a writer? Honestly, I think I’ve been one for a while. I just wasn’t brave enough to say it. I kept hiding behind “aspiring”, like a little safety net in case anyone asked for proof.
Then I remembered Sister Mary Clarence in Sister Act 2, telling Rita that if you wake up in the morning and all you can think about is singing, then girl, you’re supposed to be a singer. Well, when I wake up, all I think about is writing. So I’m supposed to be a writer.
And the more you tell yourself something, the more you believe it. So I’m saying it now. I’m a writer. My head hasn’t fully caught up yet, and it still feels a bit cringey typing it, but I’ll keep saying it until it does.
Yesterday’s me wrote but wouldn’t own it. Today’s me, at 40? She’s decided she’s a writer. Full stop.
So what next? Next I plan and take action. I’ve already started my first novel, and no, I’m not telling you anything about it yet (sorry, not sorry). What I will say is it’s a romance, because apparently I haven’t completely given up on happy endings. And I’ve got ideas brewing for fantasy too, so maybe I’ll get my castles after all, I’ll just have to build them myself.
I’ve planned writing slots into my diary, squeezed in around that Tuesday chaos, and sticking to them is non-negotiable. Every page, every chapter, gets me closer. Every blog post helps me grow as a writer and find my voice.
Maybe I figured it out right on time
And here’s the plot twist. I wasn’t actually worried about turning 40. If anything, I’ve got more self confidence now than I’ve ever had, so I was quite happy to hit the big 4-0. My only real qualm? Why on earth didn’t I figure all this out sooner?! Honestly, if I could put my 40 year old brain in my 20 year old self’s body, I’d be unstoppable.
But then I think, would 20 year old me have had anything worth writing about? She hadn’t lived it yet. The late nights, the school runs, the life you survive before you learn to enjoy it. That’s all material now. Maybe I didn’t figure it out late. Maybe I figured it out right on time.
If you need another reminder that it’s never too late, my dad published his first book at 73. There’s hope for us yet.
So if you’re reading this and you’re worried about the impending 40th, listen up. You made it through four decades in this crazy world. That’s something to be proud of. Now it’s time to stop surviving and start thriving.
So I’ll ask you. What is it you want? And what are your next steps to get there? Tell me in the comments, I genuinely want to know. Saying it out loud (well, typing it) is the first step, trust me.
And if you want to follow along while I figure this writing thing out, come and find me on Instagram, TikTok and Pinterest. I’ll be sharing the ups, the downs, and the 9pm writing sessions.
