Writing Year in Review - My Best and Worst Moments

Ceara Nobles
Dec 29, 2025
5 min read

Every December, I feel the urge to sit down, crack open a notebook, and ask myself the same question:

What actually happened this year?

Not the polished Instagram version. Not the tidy list of accomplishments. But the real, messy, beautiful, exhausting truth of what it looked like to be an author, a mom, and a human trying to hold everything together while chasing my creative dreams.

This year didn’t fit neatly into a wins-only category or a “hard season” label. It was both. Sometimes simultaneously. Sometimes in the same day.

So this is my honest year-in-review—the best moments, the worst moments, and everything in between.

The Hard Stuff: Impostor Syndrome, Doubt, and Finishing a Series

This year, impostor syndrome hit me hard.

I’ve dealt with it before—most writers have—but this year it was louder. Meaner. More persistent. It showed up every time I sat down to work on Arena of Ash, whispering things like:

What if you can’t land this ending?
What if this series deserves a better author than you?
What if readers are disappointed?

Finishing a series is a strange kind of grief. You’re not just closing a book—you’re saying goodbye to characters who’ve lived in your head for years. You’re tying up threads you once thought would go on forever. And you’re doing it knowing there’s no sequel safety net if you get it wrong.

Some days, the pressure felt paralyzing. I’d stare at my draft convinced every sentence was proof that I’d somehow fooled everyone into thinking I knew what I was doing.

But I kept going anyway. Not because I felt confident, but because Everly’s story deserved to be finished. Because sometimes courage looks like sitting down to write even when you’re afraid.

And eventually, painfully, imperfectly… I finished it.

Saying Goodbye to The Rising Elements

Publishing Arena of Ash meant closing the door on The Rising Elements series—a world and cast of characters that have been part of my life for years.

That goodbye was harder than I expected.

There was pride, of course. Relief. Joy. But also grief. A quiet sadness that crept in when I realized I wouldn’t be writing new scenes with these characters anymore. That their story was now complete.

Letting go doesn’t always feel triumphant. Sometimes it feels tender. Sometimes it feels like standing at the edge of something familiar and choosing to step forward anyway.

I’m so proud of that series—and of myself for finishing it, even when doubt tried to convince me I couldn’t.

Major Health Changes & Learning to Listen to My Body

Another big shift this year came in the form of health—both physical and mental.

At some point, I had to admit that the way I’d been operating wasn’t sustainable. Long hours sitting. Stress eating. Ignoring exhaustion because “I just need to push through.”

This year, I made a conscious decision to prioritize my physical health—not as a side project, but as something essential. I carved out time for movement, rebuilt my relationship with food, learned what my body actually needs, and let go of guilt when rest was required.

And honestly? It wasn’t easy.

Balancing health changes with mom life and writing felt like spinning plates while someone kept adding more. There were days when my workout schedule was interrupted by sick children, or writing sessions were cut short because my energy simply wasn’t there.

But over time, something shifted.

Movement stopped feeling like punishment and started feeling like joy. Like agency. Like showing up for myself in a way I hadn’t in a long time.

And that joy spilled into my creative life more than I expected.

The Magic of Small Moments

One of the quiet gifts of this year was learning to notice the small, magical moments that often get lost in the rush.

Early morning gym sessions, sitting in silence before class started. Late-night writing sprints when the house was quiet. My kids’ laughter drifting through the house while they played together. A sentence that finally clicked after hours of struggle.

These moments don’t make headlines. They don’t show up on accomplishment lists. But they’re the threads that hold everything together.

This year reminded me that a creative life isn’t just built on big releases—it’s built on showing up, over and over, and honoring the small moments that fill my creative well.

The Wins: Publishing Arena of Ash

Despite all the doubt and difficulty, publishing Arena of Ash was a genuine high point of the year.

Holding that finished book—knowing it exists because I didn’t give up—still feels surreal.

It isn’t perfect. No book ever is. But it’s mine. And it’s finished. And it marks the end of a chapter in my career that I’ll always be grateful for.

That moment alone has made the hard days worth it.

Falling in Love with a New World

Another bright spot this year was something unexpected: the spark of a brand-new series.

There’s a special kind of magic in the early stages of a project, when everything feels possible and the world is still revealing itself to you.

Brainstorming a new setting, new characters, and a new mythology reminded me why I fell in love with writing in the first place. It’s playful. Curious. Energizing. The slog of getting all those ideas down on paper (or in Scrivener) in a semi-understandable way hadn’t hit me yet, and there’s a special kind of magic in that lack of pressure.

I didn’t rush the process. I gave myself a full month to explore, to dream, to ask “what if?” without worrying about market trends or timelines. And honestly? I think it’s going to be my best story yet. Now that Arena of Ash is out in the world, I’ve started drafting book 1 in the new series, and it feels big and beautiful and bold. I am so excited to share it with you!

That creative freedom has given me momentum heading into 2026.

What This Year Taught Me

If I had to sum up the lessons I’ve learned this year, they’d look something like this:

Confidence doesn’t come before action—it follows it
Finishing is an act of courage
Creativity thrives when your body is cared for
Small moments matter more than you think
It’s okay to change how you work if something isn’t serving you anymore

This year reshaped how I see success. It’s no longer just about word counts or release dates—it’s about sustainability. Joy. Showing up honestly. And that small change feels so powerful.

Looking Ahead: The Year to Come

As I look toward 2026, I feel something I haven’t felt in a while: hope, excitement, and joy.

I have big goals—ambitious ones. I’m hoping to publish three books next year, which feels equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

But this time, I want to do it differently.

My focus word for the year is temperance. I want joy to be part of the process, to keep my health as a priority, to lead with curiosity instead of fear, and to stay flexible when life inevitably throws curveballs. My mantra this year is this:

Balance over burnout.

I want to keep moving—not just toward deadlines, but toward a creative life that feels full and inspiring AND sustainable.

Closing Thoughts

This year wasn’t easy. It stretched me in ways I didn’t expect. It forced me to confront doubt, change habits, and let go of things that once felt safe.

But it also gave me so much: