The thing about blogging—the part I both love and loathe—is that it acts as an accidental accountability tracker. It holds a mirror up to my wins and my missed marks. I don’t know many people eager to publicly own their failures, but I’ll go ahead and award myself a little gold star for doing just that.
There’ve been countless moss-covered deadlines, projects I started and didn’t finish, ideas I spoke about far more than I acted on. So if you’ve started to think of me as the writer without a book, the creator with no content—well, you wouldn’t be wrong. But also? For the first time in a long time, I’m actually enjoying the slow pace. I’m savoring the process, not just chasing the product.
At 43, I’m finally starting to know and trust myself. And in that knowing, I’ve had to confront some shifts I didn’t plan. My husband and I have slipped into a kind of accidental traditionalism. I never set out for him to carry so much—for me, for our daughters, for the full weight of our household. He’ll shrug and say, “It’s fine,” but I can’t help but wonder if it truly is. He knows this setup doesn’t align with what I once said I wanted. And because he’s the kind of man who supports his woman without ego, that dissonance matters—to both of us.
Somewhere along the way, society forgot to remind men that they can be both powerful and proud of their partner’s power too.
Anyway, this blog remains an open book of the life I’m building, the dreams I’m still chasing. I don’t know if this old-school way of sharing still connects. But I do know this: I’m still here. Still writing. Still reaching. Still becoming.
There’s this unfortunate truth about the publishing world, the literary agent landscape, and honestly, the entire entertainment field these days: social media matters. More than it should.
So, if you’re not already following fortyfiles on Instagram or Facebook, I’d love it if you did. I hate even asking—it feels awkward and transactional—but I won’t stay silent out of shame. I’d rather speak up, knowing I’m doing something necessary to move toward the place I need (and deeply want) to be.
And while I have you—if you’re between the ages of 40 and 45 and open to answering five thoughtful questions, I’d be so grateful to hear from you. You can reach me at fishingforfika@gmail.com. It’s a small ask, but it carries me closer to something that feels big and brave.
The Forty Files 