Creative Death & Rebirth – Letting Go to Level Up

They say, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

But here’s the thing — for creators, I think it’s closer to, “What does end makes you stronger.”

You can’t create without a kind of death. Not a literal one, of course, but a symbolic shedding of who you were so that who you’re becoming can step forward. Every project I’ve completed, every book I’ve published, every game I’ve prototyped — they’ve all cost me something. And each one left me changed.

This is the heart of October for me — a season of endings and new beginnings. The falling leaves aren’t just beautiful, they’re a reminder that the old must make space for the new.

When I first started writing as a kid, I thought I’d always write the same way. I’d stay the same person, just with more pages under my belt. But I’m not the same writer I was at five years old, or fifteen, or even last year. Somewhere along the way, a version of me had to grow up. A version of me had to “die” — or at least step aside — so that a better, bolder version could take the pen.

That’s development. That’s how you level up.

And that’s why this process can be grueling. To finish a book or a video game, you have to give it 110%. The same goes for any passion project worth doing. It’s why so few indie video games actually make it to release. I’ve read statistics suggesting that fewer than 10% are ever finished — and some numbers say it’s as dire as 1 in 1000 actually making it into players’ hands.

Why? Because you have to keep showing up even when it feels like you have nothing left to give. You climb the mountain, reach the peak, and sometimes you only get to enjoy the view for a second before you’re heading back into the valley again.

This process can feel a little bit like madness.

But it’s also magic.

When you stick with it — when you keep climbing, keep creating, keep pouring yourself into your work — something remarkable happens. You start to see the shape of your rebirth. You look back at where you started and realize you’ve become someone new. Someone tougher, wiser, and more attuned to your craft.

That’s the gift of this creative cycle — not just what you make, but what you become in the making.

I’m not saying this is easy. In fact, I almost don’t recommend it, because it demands so much of you and rewards you so slowly. But if you have that itch to create, scratch it. Because every fall, every stumble, every valley you crawl through makes the peaks that much sweeter.

This isn’t about harm or punishment — it’s about transformation. It’s about trading comfort for growth. It’s about becoming a new version of yourself again and again until you’re closer to the person you were meant to be.

For me, this journey has been a long march, but an incredible one. I’ve got more mountains to climb, more valleys to cross, and so many more ideas waiting to be born. And honestly, I’m already excited for 2026 — for the next version of me, and the next round of stories that will come from him.

Rebirth can be beautiful when you’re willing to let go. So whatever you’re holding onto that’s keeping you stuck — an old project, an old identity, an old habit — let October be the month you lay it down.

Because on the other side of that ending, a new beginning is waiting.

Stay tuned. Big things are coming. Aloha.