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*looks around*

It's awfully fucking hot in here.

*wipes brow, searches for a fan (or a freezer), throws open the windows in winter*

Okay, okay...I know. I owe you a proper blog post. In fact, I owe you three now. Trust me, the perfectionist in me dies a little each day another one doesn't get written.

We've reached the end of a VERY intense year and I really do wish (at least a part of me wishes) I had some tidy end-of-year-looking-ahead-to-the-new-year message of inspiration to share with you.

Buuuuut...I don't.

I'm far too deeply entrenched in my own metamorphosis to have anything pithy to offer you.

And I'm just going to go right ahead and publicly declare that to be A-OK!

Sorry (not sorry).

So...this is a blog post about not having a blog post to post? Sort of. But also: no.

Remember that Michaela Coel Emmy acceptance speech for I Will Destroy You?

Remember when she said this to us writers:

"Write the tale that scares you, that makes you feel uncertain, that isn't comfortable. I dare you. In a world that entices us to browse through the lives of others to help us better determine how we feel about ourselves, and to in turn feel the need to be constantly visible, for visibility these days seems to somehow equate to success—do not be afraid to disappear. From it. From us. For a while. And see what comes to you in the silence.

That's what I'm doing.

Which is not nothing. It's actually something quite huge.

Outside the range of visibility, I'm engrossed in writing the tale that scares me. I'm seeing what's coming to me in the silence. Which is really a very big deal in this cacophonous world.

But it also means I don't have the bandwidth right now for pithy blog posts.

That's a hard thing for me to admit. I'm kind of hardwired to believe I should be able to do ALL THE THINGS. Real life dictates otherwise. My creative process dictates otherwise.

And these things I'm working on now have waited far too long for me already.

So for the time being and the foreseeable future, me and my projects will be disappeared from view while I stay committed to keeping promises to myself above all else. Novel idea, huh?

When we're ready for visibility, you'll be among the first to know.

I'll do my level best to make sure the wait is worthwhile.

Okaaaaay, but...about that title: So This Is Midlife?

What does any of this have to do with midlife?

For starters: the fact that it's taken me until midlife (AKA: now)—51.5 years—to realize I have the right to do this thing I'm doing, to take my art seriously, to take my damned time, to retreat for months on end, to decide what takes priority and what doesn't, to drown the voices of my critics and naysayers in the paint pot on my desk, to honour my work and declare it worthy enough to invest in, even when it's at the expense of other things.

This is a midlife revelation for me. So in that regard, it has everything to do with midlife.

Therein you might unearth a pithy takeaway, if you're in a similar set of circumstances.

Oh, and also: I'm published again! HUZZAH!

Talk about burying the lead.

I, along with nineteen other women writers, are part of the just-released MIDLIFE ON FIRE, a nonfiction anthology presented by The GLOW (Glorious Ladies of Writing) Project, to showcase the ways in which women during midlife are unapologetically kicking ass.

See what I did there?

Told you I was getting shit done in the background... ;)

It's a beautiful book filled with heartwarming true stories. The cover art is stunning and the cast of characters (real women) within its pages are people I believe you're going to enjoy getting to know.

You can get your copy here.

It'll also make a great gift for the women in your life, if you're still on the hunt for the perfect thing.

Wishing you the very best of the holiday season. May your days be merry and bright.

With love, L.xo.

p.s. I do have a whole lot more to say about midlife another day (so stay tuned for Part 2 coming some time in 2022). In the meantime, read the book. It should keep you entertained for while.

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