Killing Your Darlings: The Builder Skill No One Talks About

My husband, Sam, is a writer. He creates amazing stories and characters, and he truly just loves to write for the sake of writing. Over the years, he’s come to me with the most despondent face saying “I have to kill one of my darlings.”

While I love my husband and will always feel sad when he’s sad, I never really understood the torment. It’s not a real killing. It’s just an edit.

Smash cut to Emily now, building Wanderwing, heartbroken over letting go of a Boring Beetle.

If you’re unfamiliar with the term “Killing your darlings” is a writing and creative principle that means letting go of ideas, lines, features, or plans you love if they don’t actually serve the final product.

Even if something is clever, beautiful, or hard-earned, you cut it when it distracts from the main goal. The phrase is really about prioritizing what works over what you’re attached to—a skill every creator, founder, and builder has to learn.

For Wanderwing, and me, it’s time to say RIP to the Boring Beetle.

I love this beetle. He represents a core memory and core tenet of how we raise our kids. We constantly tell them that ‘only boring beetles get bored, find something to do.’ While this phrase works in the context of our home coupled with love, fun, and hugs, it comes across as harsh to the general public. The boring beetle does not emulate the breathe, play, wander ethos of the Wanderwing brand.

Bye bye Boring Beetle.

As I get ready for Wanderwing’s first sale at the Homeschool & Educational Support Fair on March 14, I’ve been practicing something every builder has to learn: looking at your work with a critical eye — and actually listening when people tell you what they see.

Feedback isn’t always comfortable, but it’s essential. I want the homeschool community to experience Wanderwing as a tool that helps Generation Alpha build autonomy, curiosity, and grit. And if that’s the goal, then I owe it to them to show up with the strongest, clearest version of Wanderwing I can.

The Boring Beetle won’t be the last of my darlings I have to cut. But I’ll be honest — letting this first one go stings more than I expected.