Cheers to the "Late Bloomers" 🥂

40 is around the corner and I'm looking at my creative path a little differently

I’ve been reading your comments and restacks on my note about “late bloomers” and wiggling my toes with excitement.

From publishing your first memoirs in your 40s, to drafting your first novels in your 70s, to climbing Mount Kilimanjaro in your 60s (!!) – hearing how you nurture your dreams and continue to welcome new ones is thrilling, encouraging, and inspiring.

Toni Morrison was just a few months shy of 40 when she published her first novel “The Bluest Eye”

I’m still working on releasing some of the arbitrary and rigid milestones I’d set for my creative life. I want to free myself from the sense that I’m falling behind.

In one of the first writer’s residencies I ever applied for, my answer to a question about residency goals was essentially: Complete my manuscript so I can publish my first memoir at 25.

I was 23 at the time.

Long story short, I got accepted into the residency but couldn’t attend due to some frustrating immigration hiccups.

Feeling defeated (and, honestly, depressed), I put the manuscript aside and never really worked on it again. I kicked parts of it around in workshops and it became benign material I tinkered with to strengthen my writing skills – like a gym. I lost the motivation to finish it, let alone publish it, and the fire I’d once felt for the project started to dull.

I’m now 38 and haven’t published that memoir.

But two weeks ago, Memoir Land published a newly re-written section of the manuscript after my brilliant editor and friend, whose memoir workshops I’d taken in the past, encouraged me to write it.

Here’s the interesting thing! I went back and read the original draft of this section of the manuscript from 15 years ago. That version was good, but I couldn’t have written its current iteration back then.

Despite being a good writer, my skills hadn’t yet matured. I also didn’t have the depth of perspective I have now. Over 15 years, I experienced life, love, and painful loss in ways that, yes, altered my path toward my milestones, but also allowed me to put that part of my story into perspective. Fifteen years from now, my skills and experiences will have blossomed even more.

This is one of the most beautiful things about getting older. This is what I mean when I say following our dreams, passions, and creativity is for the living, at every stage. We bring our experiences to our work, and the more we’ve lived, the deeper the well of wisdom to draw from.

I’m starting to feel the fire I’d lost for my memoir rekindling.

Angela Alvarez was the oldest person to win Best New Artist at the Latin Grammy Awards. She became a professional musician in her early 90s and won her Grammy at 95.

There is no “late blooming.” We blossom right on time.

Some of your comments touched on a concept I’ve started grasping in new ways lately: There is no timeline – everyone’s path is as unique as the person walking it.

There’s a theory attributed to Albert Einstein that’s been floating around for decades: If someone hasn’t made significant contributions to their field by age 30, it won’t happen.

He was speaking about the science community, but I feel the presence of this ideology in other arenas too: If we haven’t “made it” or had our breakout by 30, our downward trajectory has begun. The dreams of our childhood and 20s start to drift from us like a paper boat set afloat at sea.

I think Einstein’s statement has since been proven wrong. At least, we now know that it overlooks a few nuances:

1. It’s less likely that age 30 is a magical roundabout that either spits us out in the direction of our dreams or the direction of inertia. It’s more likely that this is around the age when some of us either stop trying, burn out, or find ourselves carrying responsibilities that slow our momentum. (More on that in this excellent TED Radio Hour episode). I think of women/childbearing people who may have kids around that age and find that juggling parenting and full-time work leaves little time or energy to write a novel. I think of BIPOC folks who may experience enough micro- and macroaggressions in our fields that we fall back to preserve ourselves. I also think of neurodivergent people who might find it challenging simply navigating the world. Etc., etc.

2. This Atlantic piece also suggests that “late bloomers’” dreams may take longer to materialize because some of us might be creating something so original that it’s challenging for audiences to understand and platform since it doesn’t resemble anything familiar or mainstream. (This happened with Paul Cézanne).

The more I untangle myself from rigid timelines like this, the more liberated I feel in my creative work, and the more I can immerse myself in the experience of flow, and connection to my creative spirit and the universe’s creative energy. This is where I meet the erotic, as Audre Lorde defines it. This harmony is the most fulfilling aspect of being a writer, filmmaker, artist, etc.

Paul Cézanne had his first solo show at 56 after decades of rejections from the art world.

Creativity As An Orientation

I want to distinguish between the concepts of success and creativity. I believe the two should be divorced, or at least their connection should be rewired.

“Success” has been defined for a lot of us externally: money, fame, access to exclusive spaces and publications. But I think each of us should examine this word closely and wrestle with it until we come up with our individual, custom-fitted definitions. Maybe success looks more like dedicating time each week to engage with our creativity – time that is protected from the demands of our lives.

What does success mean to you?

I think of creativity as being less about what is produced and when (i.e., the end product), and more as an orientation – something spiritual: If you are a creative person, chances are you’ve been this way since you were born, and you’ll probably be this way till your last breath. It’s how you see, experience, and make sense of the world, whether or not your creations are exhibited or monetized. It’s that ability to absorb the chaos of the world and translate it into something meaningful.

So, even when we’re pulled so deep into our corporate jobs, caring for a parent, or being a parent, that our projects fall to the side; even if we’ve accumulated enough rejection letters to wallpaper a library atrium, our creativity remains and continues to express itself.

Sure, we might not be able to paint or make that film right now. But our creative essence shows up in other ways: the way we decorate our homes, tend to our gardens, do our hair, or write messages to our loved ones. Creativity finds ways to remind us that it’s still here – it never left. This is a blessing.

Ousmane Sembène (legendary Senegalese director of the film “Black Girl”) made his first short film at 40.

In Conclusion...

So, what do we do with all this?

Keep going! Trust and relish in the unique shape of your path.

Creativity (and the dreams it inspires in us) has no sense of time or age – it only has a sense of place. That is, I believe it wants a home just like we do. And if it arrives at your door, it stays with you. It’s loyal and patient and understanding. When you’re ready to write that book, make that film, paint that portrait, pen that song, it will be right there ready for you.

Keep nurturing your dreams, and if you need to step away for a bit, put them somewhere safe that you can come back to. Better yet, carry them in your pocket, so you can always touch them and remember they’re there.

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This was a really long way of saying thank you for sharing your stories, and thank you for tending to your dreams at every stage of your lives. It’s inspiring. You are inspiring.

Who are some of your favorite “right-on-time bloomers”?