Yesterday I had an epiphany about my writing. For years, I’ve been unable to move forward with writing. I’ve publishing a little—very little—here and there. I published The Coven (the sequel to The Séance) a long time ago, but I really struggled with it. And I have some feelings about it, none of which I’ll share at the moment.

I also published The Novelist several years ago, before my parents passed away. This is a novella about a slimy publisher/writer with an over-inflated ego and his codependent wife. This story is near and dear to my heart. It’s due to imposter syndrome that I didn’t promote this more.

Additionally, I published a short story called An Imperfect Family in an anthology, and then when the anthology was unpublished, I self-published it. Yesterday, I pulled it from sale, along with other titles.

Let me tell you why.

To explain my massive writer’s block and yesterday’s unpublishing spree, I have to start with Nightbound, the Spellbringers Series, and the old adage “finish what you started.”

I know that sounds like a lot, but bear with me.

I started the Spellbringers Series (originally The Claiming Words) two decades ago. I was in my thirties. I had young children and teenagers then. I read a lot of young adult fiction, was super into Twilight, and was engrossed in pop culture. Since then, we moved to a different state, my children have grown up and moved out, I’ve become a grandmother, I’ve lost my parents and other loved ones, and I’m in a completely different place in my life.

Currently, the Spellbringers Series sits at three completed, published novels, one prequel (that WAS published as a part one), a second prequel that is a hot mess, and two incomplete, vastly different versions of a fourth novel that were breaking my spirit.

The idea of writing became torture. All I could think about were unfinished projects. Especially Nightbound, the dreaded unfinished fourth book in the Spellbringers Series, the book I’d promised I would finish and publish years ago. “Finish what you started.” So, I’d look at the manuscript. Then, of course, I’d have to re-read from the beginning. And I’d have no idea where to go with it. No passion for it. The whole thing felt directionless, like I was going through the motions. Like I was just throwing words on the paper, searching for a plot that wasn’t there. So, I’d give up in a day or two and wouldn’t return for months, until guilt would tell me I wasn’t a writer anymore. (Don’t even get me started on that chopped up mess of the second part of the prequel.)

Oh, and there are other works in progress as well. I would sometimes dejectedly struggle with those manuscripts and then stuff them back in the WIP folder, adding to the “Bad Writer” guilt.

So, yesterday, I finally came to a realization. And that realization led to action which will, hopefully, lead to writing. I can you this—I have finally let go of the guilt that has been holding me back.

I have finally let go of the Spellbringers Series. It has now become a trilogy. Nightbound has been officially scrapped and the “part one” prequel has been removed from sale, since part two will never be published.

I also unpublished An Imperfect Family and a poetry collection that was available on a few platforms, for reasons of my own.

At the age of nearly 55, I feel that the young adult voice is better left to others. I’m just not in tune with it any longer. I still occasionally read YA, and enjoy fantasy and paranormal here and there, but my current love is contemporary, and I believe writers should write what they know and love.

Life changes us. It’s okay to let go of things that no longer serve us, even manuscripts or an entire book series. I held on to the Spellbringers Series until it made writing feel like a burden. I’d rather abandon 100 writing projects in order to free myself up to write that one novel that truly resonates with me. After all, if we aren’t writing for ourselves, who are we writing for?