Still I Want More.

On turning 43 years old, the lasting power of audacious wishes, and the art of wanting.

NOTE TO READERS: Welcome to the next chapter of our community: The Sharpening, a creative resistance network using creative practices for political catharsis. Everything from Listening in the Dark is still archived here, and you can read about what this new chapter means—and where we’re headed—in our introductory post HERE.

About to make a wish on my seventh birthday.

Blowing out the candles on our birthday cakes as kids was the most exciting part of any celebration (next to eating said cake) but what about the wish we made right before?

As a kid, my birthday wishes knew no limits in desire. They were big and grandiose and they were small and tender. Make me President of the United States so I can outlaw homework. Please make Zack and Billy breakup so he can be MY boyfriend. I wish my neighbor Liz would just give me all her glass animal collection already!!

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to cherish that briefest pause—the one right after the Happy Birthday song ends and before the candles get blown out—when a kid channels all their little newfound psychic energy into their deepest need or longing, in the form of a wish. I love watching my own daughter do it, now nine years old, or her friends at their own parties, or even some random kid at a nearby table in a restaurant.

I’ve seen a twenty-something in a tube top and mini-skirt close her eyes to make a wish and blow out an ostentatious sparkler candle at a Las Vegas night club (it was me) and I’ve seen a woman in her pajamas about to hit forty making a wish for impending middle age before blowing out a single candle stuck in a slice of banana bread (also me.)

What is it about a birthday wish that still holds weight, still offers some promise of future good? Whether we’re eight years old or eighty, why do we still make a wish on the anniversary of the day we were born? Maybe it’s because a wish is the one moment we give ourselves permission to want something without justification, without practicality, without shame—just pure, unfiltered desire for what could be.

Once upon a time, she was three years old. Then she blinked, and she was forty three.

Tomorrow, I’m turning forty-three years old. I’m thinking a lot about how much of a life I’ve already lived—more than sixty film and television acting roles under my belt, seven books published, a written and directed feature film, co-founding a thriving feminist media company, seventeen years married to a damn good man, and my greatest work of art, my biggest life accomplishment by far: my daughter, Marlow. It’s a lot to be thankful for.

And yet, in the timeless words of Ani DiFranco: “What kind of life am I looking for? I’ve got everything I want, and still I want more.”

Still I want more.

And so I return to the wish. As impractical as it may be, as magical as it might seem, there’s a manifesting quality to it I will never let go of. I want more: More time with my dad on this Earth before he goes. More memories with my sister who lives far from me. More books to write and read. More feature films to birth into the world. More traveling the world with David. More tender snuggling with my daughter before she’s too grown for it.

So this week, in honor of my birthday, I’m asking you to join me in making a wish of your own.

This week’s action: Light a candle and make an audacious wish.

It’s a simple but good one. Light a candle this week, close your eyes, and make the wish you stopped letting yourself make—the one that lived in you before the world talked you out of it, before adulthood taught you to ask for less. I’ll be doing the same for myself.

Share a photo of your candle and share your wish if you want to—or keep it close, that's sacred too. If something bigger moves through you, write the poem, as Jack Hirschman would say. Or write the essay, the song, the stitch in the fabric. However it comes out, wherever it lands, tag me (Notes, Instagram, etc.) I don't want to miss a single one.

Extra Credit: Forward this post to someone whose creative call to action you want to see manifested in the world, ask them to JOIN US!

COMING UP:

• Our May Substack Live guests are extraordinary and you wont want to miss out: Chief Justice of Feminism (lol) Roxane Gay , brilliant novelist R. O. Kwon 권오경 and a special hang with me and my current husband, David Cross on my birthday tomorrow. Upgrade to a paid subscription to have fun in the comments section, and support the work here at The Sharpening.

• This June, I’m heading to the mountains and I’d love for you to join me. Idyllwild Arts’ Writer’s Week runs June 21st–27th, 2026, nestled in the majestic forest setting of the San Jacinto Mountains in Idyllwild, California, and it is exactly the kind of immersive, inspiring experience writers dream about. I’ll be joining other incredible guest authors in leading craft talks, readings and special receptions throughout the week alongside U.S. Poet Laureate Emeritus Joy Harjo, White Oleander and Paint It Black author Janet Fitch, Poet Laureate of Los Angeles, Lynne Thompson, and a national treasure of poetry, Brendan Constantine.

  Workshops span poetry, fiction, memoir, and creative nonfiction, taught by an exceptional faculty. Whether you’re deepening your practice or finally making time for the writing life you’ve always wanted, this is the place to do it. Sign up and join us—full details and registration are at idyllwildarts.org.

Special birthday shout outs to my Taurean loves: Dr. Mindy Nettifee , Liz Nolan (She never did give me her glass animal collection,) Ryan Williams aka Wildly, and of course, my mom Bonnie, who’s birthday is this Friday, the day after mine.