I was forty yesterday - a landmark number, I suppose. A point in a person's life when you're apparently meant to be a grown-up, settled and all that. Whoever came up with this idea, it sounds like crap to me because we're all individuals and our circumstances are our own. While my wife and I don't have any kids, we've been in a happy relationship for seventeen years (married for eight). While we don't own a house, we used to and sold without making a profit to improve our life and our happiness. Owning your home is a great way to ground yourself while renting means waiting to see every six months if the landlord wants to renew the contract and hoping he does because you have two cats and finding a place that takes pets is a fucking nightmare. But for us, it's a million times better than where we were - and if UK house prices ever become sensible, we can buy a house again.
I'm probably no nearer to the dream/plan/imagination I've had for my entire life of making a living from writing than I was when I turned thirty, but I've had a few books published (and re-published in the case of one) along with short stories I'm really happy with. Horror as a genre isn't one many publishers or agents want to touch but it's a massive area (light horror, crime horror, OTT gore, spooky, funny horror, fantasy horror, SF horror to name a few) so that's not the end of my writing plans. It just means widening my subjects and exploring sub-genres. I'm happy with my dark tales whatever you want to call them because I'm (blowing my own trumpet) not too shabby at writing them. If I thought otherwise, there'd be no point in telling those tales to myself or anyone else.
I may not be grounded with a house, a car (never learned to drive, would you believe?), kids or a dog, but with my wife, my family and friends and obviously with my stories that I still enjoy telling and still believe showcase the best of people as well as their worst, I am the key word you may have noticed from this rambling post.