If there’s one thing I’m tuning in for, it’s a female-led series about a woman processing her grief by gathering her closest girl friends together for a cosy getaway at the coast. Throw in some soul shattering secrets, an old flame and an endless list of stars, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for your next binge watch. Enter: The Five Star Weekend.

The eight-part Sky series follows Jennifer Garner as Hollis a food influencer who tragically loses her husband in a car accident. After existing in a grief-fuelled daze, Hollis decides to stop shutting everyone out and invite her closest friends from different chapters of her life for a planned-to-a-tee weekend in their second home in Nantucket.

I had the chance to speak to Jennifer Garner and Gemma Chan (!!!!) about their new series (yes, this is a ridiculous sentence to say, how cool?!) and naturally we had to discuss the core theme of this series: how fundamental female friendship are in our adult lives.

“I mean romantic love is amazing and wonderful, but really friendships, frankly, they’re often the longer lasting thing in many cases,” Gemma tells me, “I personally wouldn’t have made it this far in life without my friends.”

“There’s a complexity to a female friendship, there’s a sisterhood, there’s a stretching and a pulling,” Jen adds, “and even in this show, I was thinking about - West Duchovny and Harlow Jane - they show you what a young friendship can be and how complicated that can be. Then we are kind of the more mature embodiment of it, but I love that you see the full breadth.”

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I’m slightly biased as I just wrote a book about how women are reprioritising platonic love as the true love stories of their lives, over romantic love, but, female friendships are magic. They offer an intimacy, validation and support that is as powerful and loving as any romantic relationship, research even proves that women would rather talk to their friends during difficult times, while men prefer to lean on their spouses. If you’re an Amy Poehler Good Hang stan you’ll know icon Regina Hall mentioned this, and yes, we all have our own Lisa!

Speaking of icons, this series is packed with them. If Jennifer Garner and Gemma Chan weren’t enough for you (they’re already perfection), they’re joined by Regina Hall (Lisa!), D’Arcy Carden and Chloë Sevigny, who round out the group of Hollis’ closest friends.

“I loved that it wasn’t just a story with kind of token supporting roles,” Jen said, “the story is strong enough from Ellen’s book and Becca’s writing to to really gather these powerhouse actresses who each have their own arc, each have their beginning, middle, end, and each have a surprise along the way.”

As much as they both loved the script and the story, it turns out celebrities are just like us. They take jobs based on the lovely people who are doing them too.

“I wanted to work with you,” Gemma says to Jen’s delight, as they hug, “I think I was the second to sign up. I was like, well, I want to work with Jen Garner.” Jen adds: “I kept this up for months. I was just like, it’s me and Gemma.”

Of course, sharing the screen with Jen was part of the fun, the other half was the juicy script that they all had to play with. “We have an amazing showrunner, Becca Brunstetter,” Gemma says, “She’s a playwright as well. She took these brilliant characters from Ellen Hildebrandt’s novel, and she really, you know, brought them, you know, took them even further and developed the dynamics. It’s all there.

I always love to ask actors what advice they’d give to their younger selves, not only as I wrote a whole book about how important staying connected to every version of ourselves is, but also as I love an insight into someone else’s perspective of what they wish they’d known or learnt along the way. We’re all constantly growing, learning and evolving after all, right? And as Jen was a pivotal childhood icon for many of us in 13 Going on 30, how could I not ask?

“It would be anywhere that you have the possibility of learning something, take full advantage,” Jen says, “If you’re in college and there’s a class that you will never care about again, really study it because it’s your only shot at having a brilliant person stand in front of you and teach you what they have to teach you.”

“I would say trust your instincts. Stay curious. Look for the kind people, look for the warm people,” Gemma adds.

Arguably, the most profound advice from the actors came later though, when I asked about which career milestones (if any) they wished they’d commemorated more, as we’re always briefed in junkets not to ask about the actors personal lives (rightly so).

“Oh in careers?” Jen said, “I think about life more than about careers. I mean, yeah, career is happening sometimes in the background. Life is what’s really happening.”

I wasn’t prepared for the direction the conversation took next, but I think it reinforced a lesson I often don’t take heed of as a slight workaholic, who struggles to switch off and can so easily get swept up in working 24/7: there is so much more to life than work.

“I don’t know about commemorating so much as - the only regrets I have are missing key milestones in my loved ones’ lives. Not like those, but like -” Gemma said, as Jen added: “Yeah, like weddings or missing a funeral or missing because we’re at work. And yeah, that is hard. That’s the hard part about our job for sure.”

“It’s just so silly for our silly job to be bigger than people that you love and what their celebrations are. But I think more, our jobs are plenty celebrated. I think that’s to your point we don’t need any more celebration. We’re here. We’re talking to you. Our hair and makeup is done. We’re so lucky. We’re like the luckiest. So it’s really just, you know, when can you wrap your arms around the people that you love, which is kind of what the show’s all about.”

So, take this as your daily reminder that life is short, put your phone down this evening, be present with the people you love and remember a good friend can get you through just about anything. Oh, and in my opinion, a good TV show can too.

The Five Star Weekend is available to stream now on Sky and NOW.

The Odyssey is laced with musings on the mistakes and shortcomings of mortal men, both in Homer’s epic and Christopher Nolan’s five-star retelling. No where is this more impactful and harrowing in the film, than when Odysseus’ men encounter the all-seeing witch, Circe.

Spoilers for The Odyssey, which feels odd to say about a 2000 year old piece of literature turned Nolan IMAX epic but all the same, spoilers ahead!

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As much as The Odyssey focuses on Odysseus’ physical and mental journey back from the battle of Troy, after violating Zeus’ law and destroying the sacred foundations of civilisation, the most frightening part of the film is actually a brief encounter with Circe.

Madeline Miller readers will know that Circe has the power of foresight to see the past, predict the future and most of all see people’s true nature. Mid-way into Odysseus’ journey home, they stumble across a mostly abandoned island, apart from one humble hillside abode that Odysseus’ men hike up to in the hopes of finding food and shelter.

The house is empty, but Odysseus men enter and look around, before Circe returns, drops everything and cowers before them in horror, as she begs them to take whatever they want and not to hurt her. Initially, this feels like quite a natural instinctive response for a single woman who lives alone to return home and be terrified of the random group of strange men she finds there.

Yet, it’s even more nuanced as even a witch as powerful as Circe is instantly afraid of these men, as she can see them for what they are: gluttonous, greedy, disgusting animals. These men believe they’re entitled to take whatever they want without consequence (which is why they later eat Apollo’s sacred cows), and as much as we, as the audience, believe them to be honourable men who we’re rooting for to get back home, that isn’t the case.

These men are in denial that they are animals, but Circe can see that they’ve slaughtered and abused innocent people in Troy (in the poem, they also sexually assault and r*pe women too) and have relished in unleashing their ten-year-long-rage on anyone and everyone who got in their way. So she turns them into their true state: pigs.

It’s one of the most graphic, almost unwatchable scenes in the film, as the crew endlessly gorge on the meal Circe has placed before them, never able to satisfy their never-ending hunger, as she snaps and elongates their noses and necks, stuffs her hand down throat and bends their faces into snouts. Until they oink and run around on four legs and are served slop in the yard, as a reminder of their true place in society, in the dirt.

Samantha Morton’s performance is one of the finest in the film. Chilling and enchanting, it’s impossible not to be captivated by Morton (and Nolan’s) interpretation of Circe, who is immensely complex and never painted as purely the villain for transforming Odysseus’ men, but what she is: a person burdened with seeing everyone’s truth, no matter how painful.

When Odysseus arrives and slowly realises what dark fate has befallen his crew, he asks Circe to turn his crew back into men from pigs. As she removes the spell, she rubs the pigs heads and says “return to your disguises.” This one repeated phrase has been ingrained in my head since I watched the film last week. It was immensely jarring and profound all at once to redefine everything we, as the audience, believe these men to be.

All at once, it captured the duality of these men who appear honourable, pleasant and polite, but hide an insidious, gluttonous greed and violence underneath - without even being aware of it. To Circe, their human form is only an illusion - their deception is the true dark magic at work here - as it hides their natural form of an animal.

In an epidemic of violence against women, with a never ending news cycle of femicide, this scene feels particularly potent. It’s a warning laced in a fable that honour is often a facade, a mask to hide the primal, destructive tendencies that lurk underneath.

Circe’s insight into these men is only reinforced when the the identity of the real ‘sea people’ is revealed, the ones that Penelope and Telemachus in Ithaca and Menelaus in Sparta fear might imminently attack and decimate their cities. Rumours have spread of a savage sea people who are murdering, stealing and pillaging their way across the sea with no regard for Zeus’ law or the gods wrath.

Songs are sung about Odysseus’ heroism in the Trojan war, yet, ironically, on his journey home, its Odysseus and those same men who have become known and feared as the sea people. In disguise as a beggar, Odysseus confesses this to Penelope when he arrives home, ashamed of how far he’s fallen, and as an explanation for why Odysseus can’t face coming home yet, as he’s no longer the King or man he was when he left for the war.

There’s a powerful message woven into this musing on fallen heroes, that animalistic violent men can ‘disguise’ themselves as good, but their true nature will always reveal itself. There will always be consequences for violent men’s actions and for their deception. In this case, justice comes from the gods who wipe out Odysseus’ entire crew with a fatal storm after they eat Apollo’s cows.

Odysseus isn’t necessarily better than his men either, he has also committed atrocities such as deceiving the gods by offering Athena a gift of a horse, that was filled with warriors who snuck out and burned the city to the ground as night fell. But he’s also conscious of his fatal errors, which Circe respects.

Ultimately, this reassurance that violent men who hide behind the ‘good, nice guy’ persona will be brought to justice, is an important warning (presented in a very graphic, harrowing way) that continues to transcend time and feel more relevant than ever. For me, this is the most powerful scene in the entire film and one that will stay with me for a long time.

The Odyssey is in cinemas now.

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It’s not very often you get to interview one of your favourite authors. Harlan Coben is a writer than needs no introduction, unless you’ve not been into a bookstore or had a Netflix subscription over the past decade. He’s the mind behind books (and their on-screen adaptations) such as Missing You and Fool Me Once, and now he’s written an original series for Amazon Prime, Lazarus.

Ahead of the release of his six-part series, I sat down with the American author in London to chat all things writing, grief and oh, you know, that new book he wrote with Reese Witherspoon. It just gets more iconic, honestly.

With so many novels - 35 and counting - under his belt, the author has been able to craft tense stories of suspense, thrills and twists that have us on the edge of our seat. Each series has a distinctive story, but a similar captivating appealing that leaves us hooked, shocked and unable to not binge the entire series one sitting. But where does Coben get his inspiration from?

“Fiction writing is always asking what if,” he said, “In this case, I was looking at a psychiatrist’s office across the street after I finished playing tennis, and I had taken my father-in-law there one time for severe depression, and I was thinking about all the misery that room would hold.

“Think about it in a psychiatrist’s office, day after day, week after week, year after year, where does that misery go? Does it maybe see deep into the walls? What happens when the psychiatrist dies and that misery starts to come out again. That was the what if that started Lazarus.”

The series follows Sam Claflin as Dr. Lazarus, who has to come to terms with the death of his father, and his new-found psychic ability to be able to speak to the dead, specifically those who have been murdered including his late dad (played beautifully by Bill Nighy).

So begins, the ultimate murder mystery where Lazarus only has the word of his victims - who think they’re speaking to their psychiatrist (his dad) - from their confidential sessions before their death. Talk about a head-scratcher. But at its heart, this isn’t a supernatural whodunnit or a thriller, but something far more personal for Coben.

“Lazarus is a father-son story,” he continues, “I lost my father at a young age, and I loved him dearly. And I always, the same way I think most of us, when we lose somebody, think, ‘What if they were alive one more time? What if I could speak to them one more time?’

“So that was one of the driving factors of trying to create this story, where Sam Claflin loses his father, played wonderfully by Bill Nighy, and he has the chance to see him again and what that would be like.”

Across the six hours (which I won’t spoil here), Lazarus debates whether or not it’s a blessing or a curse to see your loved ones again, after they’ve passed. Is it haunting and chilling or is it something wonderful that we desperately crave?

“Where I end up never matters,” he replies, when I ask him where he landed with the conundrum by the end of writing the show, “I always like to raise the questions and let the story tell itself and let people decide. I never like easy answers. I hate black and white. I like the greys, and I hope the story is working in the greys.”

This isn’t the only project that Coben has been working on either, he’s also collaborated with all-round icon and champion of books, Reese Witherspoon. The duo have teamed up together to write a thriller, Gone Before Goodbye, Witherspoon’s first adult novel and Coben’s first collaborative one. But what was that process like?

“It was so much fun,” he laughs, “Reese came to me with an idea, and I was a little skeptical just because I’m happy to collaborate on TV or movies, I’m not so happy to collaborate on novels.

“But Reese pitched me the idea and I’m like, ‘Oh, dang, that’s pretty good.’ And so Reese and I became obsessed and worked on Gone Before Goodbye, it comes out very soon.” Reader, it is out now.

Of course, as a writer myself I couldn’t not ask Coben about his writing process and advice for new or aspiring authors. Though, he wouldn’t give advice to his younger self, as all of his mistakes have been important career lessons.

“I would never give myself any advice because all the mistakes that I made - and I made a lot of them - are leading me here talking to you,” he says, “So I don’t want to, you know… Sometimes the mistakes can actually end up being good. A lot of things that went wrong early in my career have ended being good. So don’t worry so much about that.

“Writers have to write. You can always fix a bad page. You can’t fix no pages. So get it down and then fix it.”

One of the biggest plagues of writers is procrastination - the lure of a quick scroll, tackling that pile of laundry or watching paint dry rather than actually getting the words down. But this also goes hand in hand with writer’s block.

For me, this manifests as sitting down, looking at the page and nothing coming out. I have a plan, I have notes, I’ve done research, but it’s like a mental wall presents itself and I simply cannot break through - well, not for a while anyway. Does this ever go away?

“I have discovered writer’s block is part of the process,” Coben continues, “but I don’t use it as an excuse not to write. So I will then torture myself and torment myself and I’m filled with self-hatred and doubt saying, ‘Get out, get back to it. You know you can do it.’

“I don’t turn a TV on. I don’t start scrolling. I make myself sit there and look at the screen until my eyes start to bleed or I start to write. I don’t let myself ever off the hook. There’s always a voice in my head that’s saying, ‘You should be writing’.”

And on that note, I’m putting my phone down and getting back to it.

Lazarus is available to stream now on Prime Video. If you enjoyed this post, please subscribe for more!

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Celine Song Summer is well underway now that Materialists has finally (finally!!) been released in UK cinemas.

Fronted by the internet’s daddy, Pedro Pascal, the ultimate cool girl Dakota Johnson and Chris Evans - in all his indie film glory (if you’ve seen Gifted, you get it) - you can see why everyone went a little wild for this love triangle.

The film follows Lucy (Johnson), an exclusive matchmaker in Manhattan who is torn between two men, a man in finance with a trust fund, Harry (Pascal) and her ex, a handsome actor-waiter-caterer, John (Evans).

In the age of the algorithm, Lucy’s approach to true love is simple: it’s just maths. Compatibility can be quantified down to the level of someone’s looks, job title, salary, as well as upbringing and the location (and size, of course) of their apartment. So she initially believes, anyway.

I skeptically endured the suggestions that Song’s second film would be a 2000s-style romcom, as I suspected after the guttural emotive impact of her debut, Past Lives, this would be anything but that. And it’s safe to say if you do go into this expecting the energy of Hitch, you’ll likely be surprised, at best, and at worst, disappointed. Be prepared for spoilers…

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Yet, I also didn’t expect this so-called romcom (though it’s firmly a romantic drama) to take such a deep dive into the insidious way dating has shifted to become a metric that people can exploit to find a partner.

But Song is right, love has been commodified.

It’s been capitalised upon to build a multi-billion dollar industry, where individuals can pay for the luxury of improving their chance of a perfect match. For as little as the equivalent of a Netflix subscription a month, you can see the creme de la creme that an algorithm has chosen for you, after sifting through the data of the prescriptive boxes you ticked.

Preferences become prescriptive, so there’s little wiggle room for that authentic, spontaneous connection that we all crave, both on or off the apps. A friend of mine, a resident tall girl, wouldn’t date anyone under 6 foot. Now, I get it, as a small-hobbit-sized human anyone above 5’6 seems tall to me, but that rules out a lot of the dating pool to only ever entertain the thought of men over 6 foot.

Materialists takes this one step further. Loosely based on Song’s own experience as a matchmaker, Lucy’s whole approach to setting someone up is to make the ‘maths work.’ Compatibility, initially, in her mind is all about simple addition. If someone is lacking in one area, they’ll need to make up for it in another to even out their score.

One client that Lucy is struggling to pair off is Sophie (Zoe Winters), an attractive lawyer in her late 30s, who she describes as ‘okay’ in every area: looks, salary, job, apartment. Sophie has no ‘speciality’ as Lucy describes it, so she’s become harder to ‘sell’ to the ‘market’ with no second dates to speak of.

Materialists toes the line between being a farce, dark tragedy and a drama quite well, but some of these more sweeping comments (that usually come from Lucy) lead us to disassociate with the notion that this could ever be real.

Yet, an event disrupts - and disproves - Lucy’s absurd strategy, which ultimately leaves her leaning back towards her ex love, John. Some viewers felt this choice was controversial, calling it ‘broke man propaganda’ on social media.

But the idea that the film glorifies men who want to split the bill or live with roommates, is not only wildly insensitive, but completely ignores the weight of what Song is - rather beautifully - trying to depict.

Perhaps it’s an indicator of how financially-minded we are in a cost-of-living-crisis or the rise in conservative gender roles emerging as seen withTrad Wives and wanting the ‘princess treatment’. But it dehumanises John and callously suggests that being in love is a luxury only the rich can afford.

He’s the emotionally available partner, the one who she has a real connection with and he still wants to give Lucy everything she wants, but doesn’t have the means to do so. Instead, he offers her everything he has and a life-time of loving her.

Eloquently, Song responded to this take by saying that the essence of the matter is that “wealth is the great drug of our time” when she appeared on the Talk of the Townsends podcast. The director was both “concerned” and “upset” to see the ways that John was spoken about as “poverty is not the fault of the poor.”

Vanity metrics, as the film suggests, only lead to superficial connections, as they’re forged by materialistic means. Shiny things might be alluring, but there’s not much real value there. Lucy and Harry are essentially strangers to each other that are stimulated by each other’s company, wealth and intellect. Nothing more.

The wealth gap is real and it can cause conflict in relationships - especially when approached insensitively like Lucy sometimes does - but many people in relationship have wildly different finances (and behaviours with money), and they’re still very happy and in love. [Read Stylist’s money story here if you want to read more about finances in relationships - so fascinating.]

This is, of course, a polarising choice for Lucy. Choose the ultra-rich unicorn with a jaw-dropping apartment who wants to fly you to Iceland and makes you feel ‘valuable’ or get back with your down-on-his-luck actor-ex who is still finding his place in the world in a hellish shared living situation.

It’s not a perfect film, nor is it quite sure of what it wants to be - though it’s definitely not a 2000s romcom. A happy medium might have been a better solution, but sometimes the contrast is needed to emphasise a point and here Song does it perfectly.

Ultimately, Lucy’s choice reflects that love is not a luxury that only the wealthy can afford. Real love is priceless. Not always easy, but when it’s genuine, it’s worth putting in the effort. It’s not about ‘doing the math’ or finding someone who can offer you a better life with more money, it’s about being with someone who can add value to your life by simply being in it.

Do I kinda wish that person wasn’t her ex? The one who she hasn’t really resolved many of her lingering issues with? A little, but did you hear the ‘when I look at you I see wrinkles and children’ line? Ooft. You had me at wrinkles.

Materialists is in UK cinemas now.

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2024 was a real rollercoaster of a year. The kind where you cling onto the barrier and hope for dear life that you’re strapped in tight enough.

If you were around last January, you’ll remember how optimistically I started the year. I was buoyed by the things that tend to give us a boost in the gloomiest month of the year: the romantic notion of the turning of the page, a clean slate revealed and a rare opportunity to reflect and reassess.

Yet, days in, my best friend and Grandma-figure Norma passed away. Five months later, her gorgeous daughter, partner in crime and our other wonderful life-long friend Angie passed away too. With what felt like one swift blow, two fundamental pillars of my existence were gone.

In many ways, 2024 was the year of endings. Losing Angie and Norma, selling their house, completely changing our daily routines, our birthdays, Christmases. Moving out of our family home, going through all our stuff, getting rid of a lot of it and frantically finding a place for the rest of it.

It was one of those years where a lot of change happens to you, rather than by you, which meant I ended the year feeling as though I’d neglected and failed at a lot of what I set out to do.

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As I’m prone to oversharing online, I don’t shy away from telling you about my shortcomings either - I find them so refreshing to share and read. It’s the comforting admission that no one is perfect, so no one expects you to be either.

If we’re honest, we also love to read about people’s failures. It humanises us all. Think of the wild success of Elizabeth’s Day How to Fail podcast (and her books). We all want to know that we’re not the only one slipping up, not doing the things we said we would, or doing them and realising it wasn’t worth it anyway.

That’s why failures, especially the ones we’ve culminated over the course of a year, are so helpful. Failures like rejections or mistakes have a funny way of nudging us back to ourselves. Away from the noise.

The things you didn’t do, the promises you didn’t keep are a good starting point as any to figure out what you do want. Those things you wrote down last January that you thought you wanted, do they matter now? Did you even want to do them in the first place? Or have they become more significant from this new perspective?

Personally, I feel like my biggest fails were:

• Not prioritising my health. When I did work out, I loved it, but that didn’t make me motivated to do it consistently. I spent far too much time sitting at my desk, not leaving the house, and who knew, that was a recipe for feeling crap? Oh wait, we all did.

• Not making enough time for my friends and family. Work consumed my life at points this year and I started a new relationship and had to learn how to split my time in a whole new way. The time with friends and family became smaller and I want more of it in 2025.

• Not sorting my shit out. Finances (miscalculated my tax bill), pension, phone storage, laptop backup, old clothes, you name it, it isn’t sorted.

• Not reading as much or doing things I enjoy for fun. Would not recommend.

• Saying yes when I really wanted to say no. Boundaries? I don’t know her.

• Not finishing my fiction novel. The excuses rolled of the tongue for this one, but the truth? I was distracted by other work and guilty of too much comparison and self-doubt.

• Still emotional spending. De-influencing myself that I need more stuff (I don’t) and leaving the one-click away life remains an eternal goal of mine.

• Not travelling as much as I planned & cancelling a big Canada trip. Sad, but the right move. I paid off my debt instead and got a chunk of money back as I cancelled early. Those mountains will still be there when I eventually make it, one day.

Most of these have become more important, though I’ve resided myself that ‘sort my shit out’ will be an ongoing process throughout the year… and all the years that follow. Travel is also a big one to revisit, but I have my eye on a staycation or two or long weekend in Europe, as saving is now a bigger priority.

If anything, I didn’t need to write resolutions this year, all my failures from 2025 have given me enough direction for this year. Read more, move more, see your pals, have more fun, go outdoors more, sort your pension, finances and systems out. Big clear out. Done.

Don’t get me wrong good, wonderful, wildly unexpected things still happened in 2024. A new relationship, friend’s weddings, a Christmas market, amazing writing opportunities, getting an agent, going to lots of cool events. It all co-exists, in the beautiful, painful contrast of life.

Last year passed in a haze, but I’m hopeful 2025 is one of joy, consistency, growth and intentional change. Here’s to that, eh?

It’s no secret that social media is a glamourised highlight reel of everyone and their mum’s life. One sitting of doom scrolling can include seeing three engagements, two lavish weddings, a handful of promotions, a new puppy and many sets of hands holding shiny new house keys.

Major milestones are coming at us, left, right, centre, to kick us when we’re up or down to remind us that we’re eternally behind. Not to mention that we live a some-what boring life and should have started working on our big dream 8 years ago. Whoops.

*exhale*

No wonder this instills a panic in us all that we’re somehow falling behind in our own life. We’re presented with a snapshot of colossal moments without the context of how this person got there and the days, weeks and years that led up to this success.

Instead, everyone’s highlights are sandwiched together to offer an aesthetic picture of everyone thriving in a gorgeous, wealthy, dream state and leaving us in the dust.

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When in reality, I don’t know anyone that feels like they’re ‘on track’ with life. Some don’t even know what track they’re meant to be on yet.

So it probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise (but trust me, it did) that one of my reels went viral when I listed some statistics of the actual age the average person achieves most of these ‘big things’ in life.

The facts from outlets such as The Guardian, Office for National Statistics and Uswitch are as follows:

• The average age of buying a house in the UK is 33 (in London 36, Scotland 42)

• It takes on average around 10 years to save for a house deposit

• The average age for a woman to get married is 35-36

• People who get married in their 20s are in the minority

• Research has found that the older you get the more the confidence and self esteem grows and women in their 60s are the happiest and most confident

• The average age of a solo traveler is 47

Let that sink in. Do any of those stats surprise you?

They prove that the average person isn’t getting married at 25, buying a house or even anywhere near to saving for a house deposit, as most everyday people are feeling the cost of living crisis, housing crisis and the challenge of getting a mortgage alone.

There were a few people in my comments who outright refused to believe the facts, and fair play to them, as it definitely isn’t what we’re used to seeing.

I have friends who have had their first child at 37, another at 19, both are excellent mothers and very happy with their gorgeous children. I have friends who have bought a house, sold it and moved back in with parents, while others are happy renting with no intent on buying anytime soon.

Life ins’t linear. There also isn’t a snakes and ladders game at play, where you take a step up, then slide all the way back to the bottom. Though, sure, there are times where it feels like it.

When I moved back home at 23, after a short-lived stint in London, it felt like a step backwards. When my relationship broke down and I had to re-download dating apps last year, it felt like square one, while my friends planned their weddings and engagement parties.

But everything happens in it’s own time and if we all had the same timeline then god, life would be boring. So why do we hold ourselves so rigorously to achieving certain things by specific ages?

As in short, no one feels like they’re right on track even if they’re ahead of the average. Most of the time, things in life take much longer than expected as there’s curveballs along the way, such as finding out the thing you really wanted - that relationship, flat or career - actually was not right for you.

The most important thing is to not be so afraid of starting over or the thought of taking a step back that you don’t free yourself from the unhappy path you’re heading down.

There is so much time to do the things you want in life and no one expects you to have completed it all by the time you’re 30, 40, 50, 60 or even 70. Keep on doing it for as long as you can.

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There’s very few millennials who can say that they have never downloaded a dating app and experienced the (often) soul-sucking experience of swiping for a match.

For the most part, what you’ll read about dating apps is not good and boy, oh, boy, can they be bad. From ghosting to cat fishing to being sent unsolicited images and nasty comments, dating apps are a breeding ground for the worst of humanity to thrive. Not to mention the feeling of disappointment when so many matches don’t even make it out of the chat into a real life date. It’s no surprise that a lot of people are boycotting them altogether.

I am one of the many who had to navigate dating apps. Living off the cycle of swiping, matching, having half-baked conversations, meh dates and then deleting them for months on end.

But I also persevered. Remember pals, I am a work from home, freelance girl so I was well aware my options of meeting someone in real life were limited as well, I barely left the house. If I did leave the confines of my own home it was probably to see someone else I loved my friends and family, which would occupy my time and attention, rather than scouring the streets for a meet cute to happen.

In 2024, dating apps are still the most common way that people meet their partners, but even knowing that, by my 26th summer last year, I had given up hope of finding a meaningful monogamous relationship online.

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My romantic heart was surrounded by a thick old layer of armour and I wished any poor soul good luck if they even attempted to try and break it. But still, I kept on swiping or not swiping, until one day, some guy responded to my prompt saying he hoped I had a Marvel tattoo.

Though I didn’t, we bonded over the fact I have a Lord of the Rings tattoo and that was a good enough in to share our nerdy interests.

That turned into a date at a board game cafe, which led to three to four months of seeing each other every week or two, enjoying each other’s company and gradually forming a friendship that lead to something more. As someone who has rushed in, crashed and burned before, I’m all here for the slow burn.

Now, I’m ten months into the best relationship I've ever been in with a boy I met on Hinge. So while it may feel like finding a relationship from a dating app is a rare occurrence, I’m proof that it still happens and I had a hunch that I wasn’t the only one.

I’m a sucker for a good love story. The kind that feature in Nora Ephron films or Nicholas Sparks books.

Out of curiosity, I asked people to share their digital dating love stories and was overwhelmed with how many responses I had, so much so, that I decided just sharing them on Instagram wasn’t enough. They needed to be collated and memorialised (with each person’s permission) to offer some hope to anyone who is about to write off dating apps for good.

Trust me, good people still exist and if you’re looking for love, let me tell you there is someone out there who would be very lucky to get to love you.

So whether it’s redownloading the apps, adding a quirky love to your profile such as garlic bread or just sitting in lightness that comes with the knowledge that love exists and it’s exists for you, here you are…

35 digital dating stories to revive your faith in finding love online

1. “A last minute Thursday match turned into a relationship and now we own a house!”

2. “We met on hinge, been together 2.5 years and in the process of buying a house together.”

3. “I met my partner on Tinder at 18, we bought a house together at 19, engaged at 20 and married at 21! Such a whirlwind!”

4. “It was my first Tinder date and almost 7 years later we’re engaged and have our two month old little boy!”

5. “I got divorced after 16 years, so never had to date online before. I’d never lasted more than 24 hours, as I felt like a carcass thrown into a pit of lions. But I took a chance on one match and now we’re engaged and I couldn’t be happier. My absolute soulmate!”

6. “We met on Tinder 6 years ago and now getting ready to celebrate our little boys 1st birthday!”

7. “I met my other half on hinge. Our first date was in 2018, 6 years later, we’re married with a dog.”

8. “I met my boyfriend on Hinge after I had brain disease and we have been together nearly two years.”

9. “We met on Plenty of Fish and bought our first home together after three years together. Then we got married on our 7th anniversary.”

10. “We met on Hinge five years ago and got married earlier this year!”

11. “I met both the loves of my life on Bumble!”

12. “We met for our first date three years ago this week, we now have a house, we’re engaged and we have a baby.”

13. “I met my husband on Bumble. For our first date he asked me out for dinner and I said no, sorry, coffee only for first date!”

14. “I met my now fiancé on Plenty of Fish. I had zero expectations but he’s the best person I’ve ever met!”

15. “We met on Hinge in January 2020 and made it through lockdown and we’re still together!”

16. “My partner and I met on Tinder six years ago and are getting married in two weeks!”

17. “I am currently in the healthiest most loving relationships (early days) with someone I met on Bumble!”

18. “I met my fiancé on Tinder, 8 years ago, we have a baby on the way. He actually knew my cousin when they were 18 and we’d been at her 18th birthday party together and never knew it. Fate.”

19. “We met as teenagers reconnected on Tinder a few years later, now we’re married and living our dream life in London.”

20. “I met my partner 2 and a half years ago on Hinge and now we live together and have a two month old son.”

21. “We met on Tinder and had our first date at a museum and now we’re getting married in that museum in two weeks time.”

22. “I reconnected with an old friend on Tinder, after a four year break we reconnected again through Instagram and now we’re one year married!”

23. “We met on Tinder over six years ago and we lived 2 miles away from each other and hadn’t ever met until then.”

24. “We matched on Bumble and five and half years later we’re engaged with a house.”

25. “We matched on Bumble after he said something about garlic bread. Six years on, we got married in May!”

26. “We met on OK Cupid - what a throwback! - we’ve been together ten years and married for three.”

27. “We met on Bumble in Spring 2021 and we bought our first home together this summer.”

28. “I was close to giving up, but took a chance and then we got engaged eight months later. Two years on, we have two babies.”

29. “I met by boyfriend five and half years ago on Bumble. We’re now engaged, homeowners and have two dogs. Couldn’t be happier!”

30. “We met on Hinge and have just celebrated our 1st anniversary together! Couldn’t be happier!”

31. “I swiped right on Tinder six years ago - we got married two weeks ago!”

32. “The first person I met on Bumble 5 years ago (and had ever dated in general) is now who I’m marrying next year!”

33. “We met on Tinder in 2019 in the Middle East, now I’m married to an American boy and we moved to US.”

34. “We met on Tinder, moved in within three months and got engaged after six months!”

35. “Well, it worked for me! We just got married.”

What’s your love story?

Instead, two of my oldest friends, who were on all accounts my found family, ride or die and real life Fellowship (with my fam), decided this would be the year they passed away within six months of each other (very rude, not very mindful). Then we decided to uproot our lives and move out of our family home of 16 years, all while my work shrivelled up to near non-existence for the first four months of the year.

Safe to say, none of that was on my agenda.

My intentions are almost laughable looking back now, as instead of consistency, 2024 has been the year of chaos. Unexpected events have thrown me off my axis a little and I’ve taken slightly longer than anticipated to recover from it.

When my work did start to pick up again, as a new tax year dawned and budgets were replenished, I got back into my old familiar habit of saying ‘yes’ to every piece of work that came my way. Blame financial anxiety, blame a lack of boundaries, either way it led to the same place: a big ol’ burnout.

Though this meant that July was my highest earning month of my freelance career to date *mimes theatrical Miranda-like bow, thank yew* - which is especially rare for this time of year (the autumn months are usually the most fruitful) - it came at the expense of my mental health and overall well-being. As you might have guessed, it was not worth it.

Now, I’m not here to tell you I worked smarter not harder and now have 55948 systems in place and work four hour weeks to make six figures - go onto TikTok for that kind of BS - instead I did what I knew would help. I took time off, said no to certain time consuming opportunities that came with little pay off for me and forced myself to slow down and rest. Who knew being gentle with yourself could be so rewarding?

Now, the big girl update *drum roll please* is that remarkably I have stuck to one pledge, it has been the year of the book… or books (insert shifty eye emoji here). After signing with a literary agent earlier in the year, I’ve been working on a book submission, eeee.

While I’m currently not really allowed to talk about it, it has been a truly eye opening experience into the publishing industry (aka the real cogs of how the business works AND it is big business) and what it’s like to be a debut author or new girl on the block.

So, what can I say in the meantime? This ever-evolving concept, the apple of my eye, my book baby is a non-fiction book that I just know there is an audience for (it’s me, hi!), it’s a book I can’t believe doesn’t exist yet (and I swear to god if someone gets it picked up before me, the tears I will cry!) and the whole experience has been a rollercoaster of emotions - mostly very, very lovely ones.

I’ve never been so bolstered with support or had such wonderful feedback about my writing before, which I guess is not surprising when I work for myself and only seem to offer myself constructive criticism or harsh notes to improve. I mean who knew a writer would have low self-esteem and be self-critical of their work? Oh, wait, we all did.

My fiction, meanwhile, is simmering in the background. I’m revisiting one of my three main book concepts and had a gloriously satisfying breakthrough the other day on one gnarly aspect of the story. So, all in all, the words are forming, the concepts consolidating and we’re progressing, day by day, (she hopes) to one day be a published author commonly known as I-finished-a-book-writer. Exciting eh?

In between, there’s been highs, lows and a lot of processing grief: leaving the old house and losing that connection with the memories it held as we lived there with dad too, to losing Norma and Angie, some of the anchor beings of my existence and clearing out their house (where Norma lived for 70 years and Angie lived her whole life). Also, we’ve just been adjusting, slowly, to life without their presence, which is always the on-going part of the grieving process.

In other news, as comes with the territory of being a film journalist, I’ve also watched a lot of films, binged watched my favourite comfort TV shows (I’m already halfway through Gilmore Girls and it’s only just September), interviewed some very cool creatives, been on many a lovely day out with B and even had brunch with Amy Poehler.

Yes, it was the most bougie weekday I’ve ever had in my life spent at a swanky London hotel with Disney (?!) to chat about Inside Out 2. In my head, I pictured it as a ‘grab a nibble from the side and sit down to listen to this Q&A’ type set up that was posed as a ‘brunch’, but no, no, there was something like seven of us, seated round an intimate table to chat for an hour with Amy herself about anything to do with the film. Wild.

Events like this, which for me are still a rarity, are honestly such a pinch me moment for a girl who wanted to write and realised she could chat about her favourite films.

Sometimes my job is cool and glamorous like interviewing the cast of Emily in Paris or chatting to Zendaya on the red carpet, other times it’s wondering if 6pm is too late to get ready for the day, as I sat down at my desk at 9am to write and haven’t moved since.

As I’m sure you’ve realised, I’m not your gal if you’re looking for a disgustingly perfect vision of the ultimate life - which I don’t think exists anyway - but a work-in-progress, ever-evolving girl just trying to do her best and be kind to herself along the way. PS. that last part is the hardest bit!

So, the long short of it is, if your year hasn’t gone to plan, welcome, I feel you. But those unexpected events take us to new places and I’m excited to see where we’re all heading next, as, hey, the year isn’t done yet…

Calling all procrastinators, perfectionists and souls who self-sabotage, this one is for you (and well, me too).

Chances are if you fit into one of those categories I’ve described above then you’ve probably reached a point of self-reflection where you step back from your work and ask yourself: is this good enough?

Now, first of all, let’s address the elephant in the room, which is the intangible quality of ‘good enough’. Sorry brain, but ‘good enough’ can’t be universally quantified.

Instead what you actually mean is ‘good enough for (insert a person and/or people you’re worried about reading or viewing this), which could just be yourself.

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When that sneaky little voice comes in and asks is your work good enough, it’s time to bat one back and ask is it really that your work is not good enough? Or is that just a good enough excuse for you not to finish it.

Ooft. I don’t know about you, but a lot of the time for me it’s the latter.

I eternally delay finishing big projects - ahh my YA novel I’m looking at you - because I’m convinced it’s not good enough. The thought snowballs into an immovable thought that this task is impossible. I simply can’t do it as it isn’t good.

But this inner critic that spurs me on to write better, work harder, read more and evolve is also stifling me from doing anything at all.

Sometimes that fear of judgement from our audience completely derails the task that we set out to do. Whether it’s launching a small business, writing a book, sharing your new creative project, it all gets bumped to the back burner out of fear that it isn’t good enough to share with others yet.

This then becomes a very good excuse never to finish that project.

Siblings of this train of thought include: it’s not ready yet or it’s not right yet. Aka, it will not be leaving my desk anytime soon, kind regards, but please bother someone else for their good work. None to be found here, sorry.

After all, if there isn’t a finished product to share then there’s nothing to judge, right? No one can comment on it as no one has seen it and it doesn’t matter if it is good or not good. Crisis averted. Well, momentarily… if a drawer filled with half-finished projects is on your vision board.

Instead, start to notice if you’re avoiding finishing something or maybe even starting something new and exciting, because you’re already scared about how it will be received.

Our brains are very good at providing excuses for not doing things. It’s too cold, too late, too early, too hard, too simple. I’m too tired. I’ll do it another time.

The excuses that feed into our perfectionism (it won’t be perfect, so I won’t bother) are usually ingrained in us at a young age, probably in education, so they’re extremely well trodden paths that we know all too well. Inevitably, it’s harder to break that cycle of thinking, but even being conscious of it is a good start.

When we start doing something new, we’re pushing into the unknown and it becomes not a question of not can it be done (unless your idea really is that groundbreaking, in which case, go you!), but can it be done by me?

In short, self-doubt and the fear of something never being perfect is one of the easiest ways to snub your own potential.

When that sneaky suspicion pops into your head again and you begin to question whether this idea or piece of writing isn’t good enough, try to focus on other qualities about it. Is it fulfilling? Is the tone of voice right? Break it down to what you were trying to say in the first place and reassess again. Then comes the rewrite. Take two.

In some ways, it’s easier when someone else is involved in this process and then there’s a hard deadline for a piece of work, as you know that eventually you have to release it into the wild and let go of whether it’s good enough, as it just has to be done.

But if it’s a personal or passion project, it’s more difficult to work through.

In January, I attended one of Alice Benham virtual strategy days and one of her many great tips for business owners, which she talks about online too, is to champion messy action.

It’s the antidote to perfection and procrastination, as you simply have to take action and it intentionally shouldn’t be perfect.

It brings the focus back to taking action, as opposed to only doing the thing when it’s right or good enough or perfect… as we know that is unattainable.

So dive into some messy action this week and be kind to yourself if you feel that there’s a mental block and you’re getting in your own way, as we all tune into that brainwave now and again.

On the bookshelf:

I’m notorious in my book club for having multiple books on the go, and this week is no different. Naturally I’m reading Sarah J Maas’ latest epic, The House of Flame and Shadow. I’m trying to savour it and stretch out the reading process, as I have a tendency to become engrossed and pull some all-nighters to finish it.

I’m also reading Beth McColl’s new book, Romanticise Your Life for a dose of joy and self-love in the month of all things love. Roll on that main character energy right?

What I’m watching:

Well this evening I’ll be watching The Marvels as it’s just dropped on Disney+. I watched it three times at the cinema as it brings me that much joy, but totally understand the MCU is a daunting beast to approach if you haven’t dipped your toe in already.

Last week, I devoured Domino Day on BBC iPlayer, it’s a Manchester-based modern witch series and honestly, need I say more? I also binged season 2 of Trigger Point on ITVX, which was infinitely better than season one (which I thoroughly enjoyed).

I also watched Ghostbusters: Afterlife on Netflix, before it leaves on Saturday, ahead of the next instalment arriving next month, which kickstarted an entire Ghostbusters rewatch for me. Oops.

Cinema wise: Argylle is a wild, hot mess, but also super fun? Fans of Kingsman will definitely enjoy the action-comedy-farce of it all too. Fans of cats will enjoy Alfie too.

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Hello friends. If you follow me on socials, you’ll have seen that my January hasn’t gone to plan.

In between the rewrites of my fantasy novel, the reinvention of my income streams and my attempt to curb my post-Christmas habits so I didn’t accidentally hibernate till Spring, one of my oldest family friends’ health deteriorated and sadly she passed away.

In the thick fog of grief, big tears and frequent scrolls through our two and half decades of photos together, I’ve been struck by how desperate I’ve been to write again. Dump all of my feelings onto the page, both for myself and my book characters.

Naturally, my productivity has obviously been at an all time low these past few weeks, as I reprioritised the time to spend looking after my loved one - which will forever be time well spent.

But as I pushed back each task, crammed before any immovable deadlines and delayed any chats about new work, I found that all I actually wanted to do was write.

Words were spilling out of me at any given moment, major plot points I’d struggled with were resolving in my mind and I found myself fixing a pen permanently in my hair, with a notebook glued to my hand to try and capture these brief moments of creative clarity.

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While I’ve been in awe of grief’s ability to cut through my self-doubt and insecurity and immerse me back into a creative state of being, it’s definitely not the first time it’s happened.

This isn’t revolutionary either, as creativity has always been a beautiful and cathartic outlet for grief, whether that’s through painting, drawing, writing, dance. Dan Levy’s new Netflix film, Good Grief, is a perfect snapshot of this experience.

About a year after losing my dad, my first book idea came to me on a holiday in the Lake District. At that point in time, my grief still manifested itself as internal rage, which, it turned out, was a very fruitful foundation for a young adult fantasy heroine.

That was eight years ago.

The initial seeds of the ideas were solid and remain the basis of the book I’m sending out to agents later this year. But the actual words I’ve written of that book, all 60,000 of them to date, are pretty terrible.

Prior to this very unexpected loss, I thought I wouldn’t be able to rewrite this book.

I’d low key convinced myself that I simply could not do it, I would fail and be unsuccessful at making it any good so why should I try? Of course, it then became a self fulfilling prophecy as I stopped writing it altogether.

What I’ve been reminded of is that the good stuff comes in the rewrite. That process of re-reading, re-learning, editing and amending our own work is where the self-awareness comes in and the ability to grow, learn and improve at what we’re trying to do.

Most of my life as a freelancer is a process of trial and error, one which I’m forever tinkering with to get the balance write as I wrote about earlier in the month.

Yet, sometimes we’re weighed down by the thought of getting things right or perfect the first time that we don’t give ourselves room to fail or do bad work, so opt to do no work at all.

For me, this perfectionism tends to stifle my creativity entirely, as I’m too conscious of what I’m saying, how it sounds and whether it’s any good that the words simply won’t come out. With all that pressure weighing on those words, who can blame them too?

It’s only when I’m in a state of grief or any overwhelming emotion that grounds me back into the big picture of life that I’m able to write freely again.

These past two weeks, I’ve read and written more than I have in months.

I’ve had more clarity about what I do and don’t want from my life and I’ve also consumed more lemon drizzle cake (my brother’s signature bake) and air fryer dinners than I care to admit, because life is about balance.

It’s times like this - when life is coming at me and it demands that I’m wholly immersed in it, that I don’t have time to assess whether I’m any good at what I do, so I’m just able to do it. The quality of my creativity becomes the least important aspect of it, as I simply need to release it in order to feel alive.

While I obviously would not want to live in this instinctive, all-consuming way continuously, in the short-term it' has blocked out most of the limiting beliefs that were holding me back from actually doing any writing at all.

Reading back over what I’ve done, I know that it isn’t perfect, but it’s a baseline to build on top of and more than that, it’s been extremely fulfilling and surprising.

In creative writing it’s often said that the first draft of a novel is just you telling yourself the story, it’s no where near ready to be placed onto a shelf or into the Amazon basket of the masses, but a strong starting point.

What if we approached every aspect of our creativity and work that way? That our first try doesn’t have to be perfect, let alone good, it just has to happen in order for us to improve on it later.

Whether you’re someone who looks for silver linings or like me has simply learnt to embrace life’s unexpected events and the new directions it takes us on, try to remember that creativity and work isn’t about aiming for perfection.

Instead, try to find something fulfilling that feels almost instinctual to you to do, and do it often without judgement or criticism.

After all, making it good, comes later. For now, focus on doing the thing, to improve at it and enjoy it.

On the bookshelf:

Feel-Good Productivity: How to Do More of What Matters to You by Ali Abdaal

What I’m watching:

• I’m am hooked on season 2 of The Traitors. You can catch up with all of season one and two on BBC iPlayer now

• At the weekend I watched Mean Girls this weekend and it left me cringing to my very core - read my full review on Letterboxd here.

• I’m desperate to see The Holdovers this week after my film friends raved about it at the London Film Festival. It’s in cinemas now.

What I’m listening to:

I’m obsessed with Alexis’ podcast, Do You F*cking Mind? at the moment, and this is one of my all time favourite episodes about the power of discipline.

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In all honesty, I’m a sucker for the New Year. Roll on the clean slate, new stationary and obligatory goal setting time. You want me to rest for several working days, before I come back to tackle my to do list? Sign. Me. Up.

Yet, as I write this on January 8th that re-invigorated, ready to go, well-rested feeling still hasn’t quite hit me. Towards the end of last year (read early November), I hit burn out and I knew (as all serial work-to-burnout souls do) that I needed to take a proper break over Christmas in order to be hit any of the goals I wanted to this year.

But, at that time, I was enjoying my work and if I don’t keep my foot on the gas, then the money doesn’t come in, so I kept typing away. Pitched out for more work and worked longer hours.

All in all, I think I managed about two days of nothingness over the holidays, which, as it turns out does not offset months of stress and sleepless nights… who knew?

Safe to say when I rocked up at my desk (cough, walked into the spare room) last week, a sad truth dawned on me, nothing had changed. I wasn’t this new person that I’d imagined I would be - full of determination, energy and ready for action again.

Things are still being ticked off my to do list, but it’s like dragging my overtired soul through treacle. Tempting myself with the lure of another coffee, a Taylor Swift playlist or a new podcast episode at lunch.

So, I did what a self-employed, serial work from home-r does and had a conversation with myself about it.

Why don’t I want to get on with that project? Why does writing still feel like dragging myself through sludge? Why aren’t the words coming? Why do I keep putting my writing off for another time?

The truth: what I’m doing isn’t working for me anymore. I’ve known for a while that this level of overworking isn’t sustainable and it’s sadly sucked the life out of my one true creative love in this world, writing.

I think it’s also tied into the struggle of building your own ladder. Self-employed life is just one long process of trial and error. Does this balance of income streams work? Is it fulfilling? Does it help me afford the life I want? Is it challenging enough? If so, fab, keep going. If not, scratch that, start again.

So when I finally found a combination that felt good, made me good money and on-paper worked, I rolled with it. If it ain’t broke right?

However, I started to realise that while on-paper and financially this current blend of shifts at magazines and commissions worked (to an extent and on a limited level), something had been missing creatively and emotionally (and well, we’d always love for finances to improve too). I forgot to prioritise the rest of my life or why I went freelance, which was to finish my book, have more flexibility and more free time.

The resistance was coming in for me as I’m not finishing those big creative projects that I am passionate about for fear of failure, judgement or just simply being too tired to type another word at the end of a long day.

Freelancing has become another kind of hamster wheel for me to make myself feel guilty about not running on enough. I start to feel guilty when I’m not at my desk by 9 or feel bad to take an afternoon off even though I’m my own boss?!

2023 was a challenging year mentally with lots of turbulence in my personal life for a few months of the year, which I spent the next few months recovering from.

I’m so incredibly grateful I was able to work during that time as it gave me a focus and drive to keep going, but this year I’m stepping off that little wheel that I furiously, mindlessly kept going on to finally have a look around to see where I’m actually going.

If you’re joining me at this time of change and intention, welcome. Step off the wheel with me, let’s have a little look around and take stock of what is and isn’t working right now.

I’m well aware that changing up your work is daunting, which is probably why I’ve put it off for so long. It could mean more chaos, big failures or more burnout. But it could also mean new opportunities, more fulfilment and more time and money for fun & rest.

But I know that after being in my safe little cocoon in 2023 and putting one foot strategically in front of the other that it’s time to take a few more big swings, take another leap of faith (three years after my initial one into freelancing) and chase those big dreams, before another New Year comes rolling by. I could sink or swim, but maybe you’re in the same boat? Either way, I’m excited to see where it leads…

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