💡✍️ADN #163: Let It Die So Something New Can Live

You stopped working on the album six months ago.

But you haven’t told yourself it’s over.

It’s still on your project list.

Still in your “someday” folder.

Still mentioned vaguely when people ask what you’re working on.

Everywhere else, it’s dead.

The files haven’t been opened.

The collaborators moved on.

The momentum evaporated.

But in your mind, it’s “on hold.”

The cost?

Every project you refuse to bury is haunting the work you’re actually doing.

Mental energy isn’t infinite.

Attention isn’t renewable.

Every unfinished thing sitting in your peripheral vision is draining resources from what’s happening now.

It is hard to build new work on top of unfinished ideas.

The album you’re “kind of” making is blocking the song you could be writing.

The tour you’re not booking is consuming the mental space needed for the local show you could play next week.

The collaboration that you haven’t heard back on in 6 months is preventing you from reaching out to someone new.

The projects you won’t let die are killing your ability to start anything that might actually live.

 — -

In ecology, there’s a concept called succession.

When a forest burns down, the first plants to grow back aren’t oak trees.

They’re pioneer species: Scrappy, fast-growing plants that can thrive in harsh conditions.

These plants do three critical things:

• They stabilize the soil.
• They create shade.
• They eventually die and decompose, enriching the ground.

Only then can the next generation of plants, including those oaks, take root.

The key?

If the pioneer species never died, the forest could never mature.

Your creative projects work the same way.

Some ideas are pioneers.

They serve a purpose, teach you something, stabilize your creative practice.

Then they need to die and decompose so their nutrients can feed what comes next.

But if you keep them alive (barely), on minimal resources, taking up space, they prevent succession.

You can’t grow oak trees in soil still occupied by weeds you refuse to pull.

 — -

Acknowledge What’s Actually Dead

You already know which projects are over.

Your avoidance of admitting it doesn’t change reality, it just creates confusion.

A dead project has clear symptoms:

• You haven’t touched it in months.
• Thinking about it creates guilt instead of excitement.
• You make excuses when asked about it.
• You’d rather start something new.

Make a list titled “Projects I Haven’t Touched in 90+ Days.”

Write them all down.

For each one, ask: “If I started this today from scratch, would I be excited?”

If no, it’s dead.

Admit it.

 — -

Declare Retirement (Even if Temporary)

There’s a massive psychological difference between “on hold” and “retired.”

“On hold” means you’re still responsible.

“Retired” means you’re released.

Retirement isn’t permanent unless you want it to be.

The word “retirement” just means “this is not active right now and I am no longer pretending it is.”

You can come out of retirement later.

Athletes do it.

Musicians do it.

Projects can too.

Send yourself an email or write in your journal:

“I am officially retiring [project name] as of [today’s date]. This does not mean it failed. It means it served its purpose for this season and I am releasing it. If I want to revive it later, I can. But for now, it’s done.”

The act of declaring it creates closure.

 — -

Archive, Don’t Delete

You’re afraid to let go because you think it means losing the work forever.

It doesn’t.

Archiving preserves the work without keeping it active.

It acknowledges “this existed, it mattered, and it’s complete for now.”

Create a folder called “RETIRED PROJECTS — [Year].”

Move everything related to the dead project into this folder: files, notes, collaborator contacts, reference materials.

Then close the folder.

Don’t delete it.

Just close it.

It’s there if you ever need it.

But it’s not cluttering your active workspace.

Archiving isn’t abandonment.

It’s respectful burial.

 — -

Extract the Lesson

Projects don’t fail.

They teach.

But only if you process what they taught you.

Every retired project contains insights about what works, what doesn’t, what you care about, what you don’t.

If you don’t extract those lessons, the project was wasted.

Before you archive, spend 10 minutes writing answers to:

• What did I learn from this?
• What would I do differently next time?
• What part of this idea might show up in future work?

Save these notes in the archived folder.

The project dies.

The wisdom lives.

"I’ve retired three albums.

One taught me I hate recording in big studios.

One taught me I need co-writers for hooks.

One taught me my best songs come from personal stories, not concepts.

None of those albums came out.

All of them made my actual released music better."

 — -

Create Space for What’s Next

Retirement feels like loss until you see what fills the space it leaves behind.

Mental bandwidth is zero-sum.

Every dead project you’re pretending is alive is stealing focus from something that could actually be alive.

After you retire a project, block 1–2 hours and ask yourself:

“If I had zero unfinished projects, what would I start today?”

Start it.

The speed at which you move on is proof that the retired project was holding you back.

You don’t know what you’re capable of creating until you stop maintaining what you’re not creating.

 — -

You thought the hard part was letting go.

It wasn’t.

The hard part was the months you spent pretending something dead was still alive.

Carrying it.

Defending it.

Making excuses for it.

Feeling guilty about it.

Retirement isn’t failure.

It’s honesty.

And honesty creates energy.

The moment you admit a project is over, you stop bleeding attention into maintaining the idea of it.

That attention redirects instantly to what’s actually happening.

The confusion you’ve been feeling?

It’s not about the work.

It’s about the gap between what’s true and what you’re willing to admit.

Close that gap.

Retire what’s dead.

Not forever.

Just for now.

You can always come out of retirement.

But you can’t create anything truly great while pretending the old thing is still in progress.

Let it die.

Something better is waiting.

 — -

The projects you won’t bury are consuming the energy you need to build.

Retire them.

Archive them.

Learn from them.

Then watch what you create when your mind is finally clear.

Happy New Year,

Neil