I Started Writing at 60 — And It Felt Like the Beginning

For most of my life, I was busy building a life.

A marriage. A family. A career. Raising two children. Traveling. Working. Showing up for all the people and responsibilities that filled my days.

And then something changed.

My children grew up.

The house got quieter.

I became an empty nester.

And somewhere in that new quiet, I started asking myself a question I think a lot of women eventually ask:

Is there something more I still want to do?

Not because the life I'd built wasn't enough. It was — and still is — a life I'm incredibly grateful for.

But I realized I wasn't finished becoming.

I had stories in my head. Experiences I'd collected over decades. Places I'd traveled. People I'd met. Conversations I'd remembered. A marriage that had taught me a thing or two about love, commitment, laughter, forgiveness, and choosing each other over and over again.

And I had an imagination that apparently had no intention of retiring.

So at 60, I started writing.

Why Romance?

Because I've always loved love stories.

Give me the banter. The butterflies. The almost-kiss. The man who falls first. The unexpected moment when two people realize the person they were looking for may have been right in front of them all along.

I love the escape of romance, but I also love what sits underneath it.

Hope.

Connection.

Second chances.

The idea that something wonderful might still be waiting around the next corner.

Maybe that's one of the reasons writing romance at this stage of my life feels so right.

Because I've lived long enough to know that life rarely follows the plan we make for it.

And sometimes that's where the best stories begin.

It Wasn't Too Late. It Was the Right Time.

There's a funny thing about turning 60.

You can look at it as a list of things you've already done.

Or you can look at it and think about everything you still haven't tried.

I chose the second one.

I didn't grow up dreaming that someday I'd become a published romance author. This dream arrived later.

And I've come to love that about it.

I had more to bring to the page at 60 than I would have had at 30. More memories. More perspective. More places I'd seen. More mistakes I'd made. More laughter. More love.

More life.

And maybe that's what I really want to share here — not just the books I write, but the idea that we don't have to stop discovering new parts of ourselves just because we've reached a certain birthday.

Sometimes the next chapter really can begin when you least expect it.

Mine just happened to begin with a blank page.

And I'm very glad I started writing on it.

With love, Lia