Finish.
That’s all.
Finish that project. Then you can worry about the rest.
The newsletter, the play, the story, the podcast. The painting. The novel. The essay that’s been sitting in your draft folder because you’re too frightened by its truth, too worried no one will comment and you’re talking to the void.
If you don't finish, you will never know what it can be. Creative projects never look the same in the end as they do when you begin. When you’re dreaming of them, when the prose flows and the applause rains down, the awards and money and acclaim for this magnificent piece of ART you’ve created, it seems like a no-brainer.
And then you start. And nothing works how you thought it might. The work is always, always, a pale comparison to the technicolor idea you’ve latched onto.
But in finishing, you transfer the power of dreams to the power of reality. The real art of creativity comes from revision. Reworking. That’s where you turn your bland, flat, unmarketable vision that’s anemic on paper into a masterpiece.
But you can’t do that if you don’t finish it.
So finish. Ignore the voice that says it’s terrible and no one will read it. That voice is a liar, a charlatan, a grifter. Listen to the voice that says maybe… maybe I can make this better. Maybe if I moved this here and trimmed that there, this scene would be tighter. Maybe if I start thinking about how an editor will read this instead of a reader, I’ll see how those extra flourishes in the prologue don’t move the story forward. Maybe if I listen to my heart which wants to soar at the very idea of having a project done, then my work can soar, too.
Finish. Always. Do not leave a trail of half-eaten sandwiches all over your creative space. Get it done.
Write hard!