I've been staring at this stupid cursor for two hours. Longer than I've ever stared down any of the monsters in my story, that's for sure. God, these words on my screen just feel... empty. Like I'm going through the motions.
I rushed Nightborne from one battle to the next, piling on cool powers and big reveals, but somewhere I lost the heart of it all. The thing that made me want to write this story in the first place.
My magic system looks impressive in my notes—all these tiers and crystals and abilities—but it never feels real when I actually write it. I gave Nightborne these amazing shadow and light powers, but I never let the poor guy catch his breath. Never let him grieve or doubt himself or actually connect with the world he's supposedly saving.
I sketched out these grand locations—the island of eternal night, that ancient temple—but Greenwood Hollow feels like cardboard. Bertha's wisdom and Garret's loyalty? They're just traits I assigned, not people who feel alive.
So I'm done with this draft. Not with Nightborne—the character deserves better than this connect-the-dots adventure I've written. But this version needs to go. I want a world where those runes on the obsidian gate actually matter, where the River of Whispers isn't just me dumping exposition but comes through in the stories the villagers tell over dinner.
I want Nightborne to actually hesitate before diving into danger. To really struggle with the dark power he's tapped into.
Soon I'm starting fresh. I'll keep the basics—Nightborne and his shadow magic—but I'm slowing everything down. I'll take time with Greenwood Hollow, adding those little details that make a place feel lived-in: the harvest festival, the gossip at the tavern, those lanterns that the fishermen hang out on the Lake of Echoes at night.
The Whisperer won't just be a convenient guide anymore. She'll have her own agenda, her own secrets about the island that she only reveals when she absolutely has to.
And the magic? Each new ability will cost Nightborne something real. Not just energy or blood, but trust. Friendships. Maybe even his own humanity.
There will still be fights—messy, desperate ones where he could actually lose. But they'll matter because we'll care about him by then. We'll have seen him laugh, seen him lonely, celebrated the small wins before the big ones. He'll meet people who change him, face choices where there is no perfect answer.
It won't be easy, and it sure as hell won't be quick. But it'll be honest. When I sit down tomorrow with that blank page, I'll probably still freak out a little. But I'm not just trying to impress readers with flashy shadow powers anymore. I'm building something I actually believe in.
This draft? It's taught me what not to do. And sometimes that's more valuable than success. So I'm picking myself up, sharpening my skill, and getting ready to write the story Nightborne deserves, and you, the readers deserve.