As time goes on, this author’s need to please others has fallen away. Free of this pressure, she’s been able to take more chances with her writing.

by JP McLean

The first time I heard that women over fifty were dangerous, it made me smile. It was a meme, and though I don’t remember the visuals (being a woman over fifty), the idea stuck with me. It felt like a small beacon of hope that life past fifty had the potential to be kick-ass prime and not just past-prime.

I heard it again in a coffee shop, eavesdropping, as writers are known to do. Two women were whispering about some unsuspecting store clerk who hadn’t realized he was dealing with a woman over fifty. The dangerous part was implied. “Wish I had a picture of his face,” one of them said, barely able to get her words out between hyena bouts of laughter.

And when I heard it a third time, I imagined a frustrated universe knocking me upside the head to make her point. It was during a rant by a girlfriend who was exhausted by the soul-crushing cycle of pleasing. She was sick of having to placate and compromise, tired of the expectation of being polite and demure, and fed up with a lifetime of making herself small.

I’m not about to assume most women feel this way, or that it’s only women who feel this pressure, but I recognized a truth in my friend’s rant. I’ve felt it myself. I’ve especially felt it in my fiction writing, this imperative to not offend, to not make ripples. But as the years past fifty fall away, so does my self-imposed need to please.

After fifty, I don’t tiptoe onto the proverbial thin ice with my writing, I dance on it.

My job as a genre author is to entertain, to help readers leave their troubles behind for a while and lose themselves in a story. But to write something powerful enough to draw readers in, I must stir their emotions. Which means I must first stir those embers in myself. Which is where my friend’s rant comes into play. Where I used to be content to write a good story, what I want to do now is write a good story that shatters expectations and challenges stifling norms.

After fifty, I don’t tiptoe onto the proverbial thin ice with my writing, I dance on it. I take chances I never would have earlier in my career. If I fall through the ice, so what? It’s shallow water. I may get wet, cold, maybe swallow something unpleasant, but I won’t drown.

Perhaps that sounds simplistic. It’s not. It was only after I grew confident in my writing that I could finally push past the concern about what other people would think. It wasn’t just confidence in my writing, but confidence in my own skin. Sadly, that self-assurance took fifty plus years. Hopefully, future generations of writers will get there sooner.

It helps to remember that no matter how polite our writing, people will criticize. They’ll pull apart our words. They’ll question our motives and intelligence and taste. There are times we may be tempted to do all that too, but don’t fall into that self-sabotaging trap. We are who we are. We write what stirs our souls. Not everyone will be enamored of what we do. Those people have plenty of other books they can read.

Don’t get me wrong: I care what readers think. I just don’t hold back anymore in what I write simply to please them. My writing may make some readers uncomfortable. I hope it doesn’t, but if it does, I’m not going to crumple under the weight of their judgment. I would have when I was younger, but not today. I’m well over fifty, taking up space, and dangerous now.

JP (Jo-Anne) McLean is a bestselling author of urban fantasy and supernatural thrillers that readers call addictive, smart, and fun. She is a 2021 finalist for the Chanticleer Paranormal Award for Supernatural Fiction, and the Wishing Shelf Book Award for Adult Fiction. Her work has won a Readers’ Favorite Award, a Gold Literary Titan medal, and honorable mentions from the Whistler Independent Book Awards and the Victoria Writers’ Society. JP is a graduate of the University of British Columbia’s Sauder School of Business and makes her home on the coast of British Columbia.

You can visit Jo-Anne at her website, and while you’re there, be sure to sign up for her newsletter. Connect with her on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter/X.