This isn’t how I wanted to start 2026 😞

Hope y’all had your fill of Christmas tamales and have greens and black eyed peas on your New Year’s menu.

Photo by Ian Schneider on Unsplash

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve rewritten this newsletter, so I’m going to rip off the Band-Aid.

My erotic horror romance novella fell through

While I really wanted to write this kind of story – a horror romance involving snuff, necro, and vore – I couldn’t finish it for at least 25 different reasons.

I tried so hard. I had only two chapters and a short epilogue left. I fought like hell to not succumb to the worst of writer temptations: abandoning a story halfway through, never to return to finish it until much later, if at all.

At the end of the day, though, it wasn’t clicking.

After sitting on this feeling for a while, watching yet another project crash and burn before my eyes, and talking it through with some trusted friends, I’ve decided it’s time to face what I’ve been trying to tell myself since 2023.

I’ve reached a critical point as an author

Aurora Graves was born of a combination of severe depression and writing chapter 7 of The First Deal. I was unemployed, unable to get any job, sitting on a mountain of rejections from literary agents and one revise and resubmit from a traditional publisher for another book, and needed to keep myself busy.

I started posting to Wattpad because I wasn’t sure about indie publishing. In the meantime, having a weekly deadline to post a chapter every Friday morning gave me something to look forward to and shook me from the chains of depression by giving me something productive to focus on instead of how low I felt. It stressed me the fuck out towards the end after I finally found employment, but it filled a major void.

Now, instead of feeling inspired and hopeful when I sit down to write, I feel dread. Anxiety. Even anger. I’m antsy thinking about how I can’t wait to get off the computer and do something else. I haven’t even wanted to read in months. And I seriously can’t stand that I feel this way about something I choose to do.

The longer I’ve looked back and the more I’ve talked it out, the more I began to recognize the telltale signs: I’ve been burned to a crisp for so long that it’s reached well beyond what a little R&R can fix.

I can’t be Aurora Graves right now

Hopefully by now y’all know that I am autistic. Late diagnosed. So I haven’t quite figured out the secret sauce to not overdo, well, anything I do. Even the shit I like.

I still have a very bad habit of ignoring my needs and barreling through all the warning signs that I’m doing too much, because it doesn’t feel like it’s too much until it’s too late.

This is one of the many times that trying to push myself to do “the right thing” – write the next book ASAP, build community, push through and write every day – ends up harming me far more than it helps those who are normal.

Now, unfortunately, that means I can’t be Aurora Graves for a while.

Honestly, though, coming to this realization and putting it out into the universe has given me such a profound sense of relief. A weight I didn’t realize I was carrying has been lifted from my shoulders, and I feel like I can breathe again.

I’m so thankful for Aurora. She pulled me out of a very dark time and gave me meaning when I needed it most. She gave life to some of my greatest goals and dreams.

I’m grateful for you, your support and reading my books. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without it.

Truthfully, I’m scared of making this move because it feels like I’m throwing away years of hard work and tears. Though I’m hanging up the Aurora mask for a while, it doesn’t mean I’m quitting writing. One day, I want to come back to the stories I’ve left on the back burner.

I’m not sure what form that will take. Maybe it’ll still be novellas and novels as Aurora Graves. Maybe I’ll start a new pen name and start all over. Maybe I’ll do something different, like return to something like Wattpad or try a different form of storytelling.

For now, I want to set writing aside. I want to finish the huge diamond painting I started earlier this year. I want to start art/junk journaling and the scrapbook I’ve delayed for almost a decade. I really want (and desperately need) to work on my health and find an active hobby. I want to do a deep dive on my new special interest (I’ve fallen down a Mormonism rabbit hole) and get lost in something that breathes new life into me. I want to get back into reading non-fiction that interests me. I want to spend more time with my husband, who’s dealt with my workaholic habits for far too long.

The plans I have for myself in the coming months have filled me with hope and eagerness for this hiatus. I think it will be the break I’ve been needing this entire time, and it’ll invigorate me to return to writing with a renewed spirit.

I don’t want to lose you, dear reader, because I know I’ll come back to writing. It might be later this year. Maybe in a year or two. Regardless, I hope you’ll still be waiting for me on the other side.

TTFN – ta ta for now ❤️‍🔥

My books will remain published. Southern Discomfort will still be published, so make sure you’re following me on Amazon and BookBub to be notified when it’s released. Y’all ain’t getting rid of me that easily.

I hope y’all have a wonderful 2026. Stay fucked, abominations.