I am a “rebloomer” rather than a late bloomer. After the death of my mother last year I not only felt free to publish my memoir, I felt compelled to publish it.
By: Marilyn L. Davis
Note: While some of you in my generation may reference my title as a parody on the Eagles, “Life in the Fast Lane”, it actually came in a comment from Slug Latimer on Facebook. I asked permission to use “Life in the Last Lane”, and Slug graciously gifted it to me. Now, if you’re the originator of this phrase, let me know, and I’ll give you credit as well.
“How did it get so late so soon?
It’s night before it’s afternoon.
December is here before it’s June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?”
― Dr. Seuss
Late to the Party? Doesn’t Matter
I’ve only been writing online for about three years, so many could say – who cares what you write about, who are you, what can you offer, or other references since I’m a late arrival.
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A Writing Life 
Thank you for reblogging my post, Joan. As a rebloomer, late bloomer, or slow to start as one writer described themselves, writing at any age is now the norm.
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