Saying ‘done’ is the hardest part
Bringing a project to a close can stir up our most challenging doubts and fears as creators.
Though I wrote hundreds of stories over the course of my career as a journalist, I can easily recall the ones that were painful to let go. The ones that made stomach churn and ache, the ones that sent me back to the coffee pot until I vibrated, the ones that kept me up at night. I wrote one of those stories just last year. So, no, this does not go away with practice or time.
As creative people, we will always struggle with how to say “done” on certain projects.
It might be because we have a specific vision for the result. We might be influenced by the recipient of the project—someone we deeply respect, love, or even fear. We might know this piece is headed for prominence in some way. That it will be in a spotlight and we are desperate to make sure it can stand up to scrutiny. Have you seen “She Said,” about the work of New York Times reporters Meghan Twohey and Jodi Kantor pursuing an investigative story about years of abuse by Harvey Weinstein? As they and their editors prepare the story for publication, the finishing, the decision to “go,” feels excruciating on film. It felt excruciating to me, my palms sweating with knowing, my fingers rising in nervous habit to rub my forehead and temple as I sat in my airplane seat, watching.
We can cruise through the gathering and even the making of our projects, whatever they may be. Finding materials and arranging them can feel good and exploratory and forward-moving, whether we are making a story, a speech, a video, or an entire publication. We are building. At some point, though, the building must end and we must hand over our work to someone who will decide to broadcast it to an audience.
For me, it’s never the broadcasting part that causes the greatest anxiety. It was the saying, “I’m done.” Because, some of these projects? Some of us? Without the boundaries of clients, deadlines, or goals, we could probably pick and shift and polish and adjust these things for eternity.
As a publication editor, producer, coach, and person, I proudly overuse a quote attributed to “Saturday Night Live” creator Lorne Michaels: “The show doesn’t go on because it’s ready; it goes on because it’s 11:30.”
I freaking love this quote. There is so much grace in it. We make what we make and then we launch it out into the universe. That’s our agreement as creators: We make something, we locate a time of completion, and we let go. Every time we choose to begin something, we also choose that moment of release. We do not delay for perfection, whatever that means. We work on a project for a period, whether self-determined or imposed by someone else. And when the clock runs out, we let go. It can be scary. That’s OK. We can feel sad afterward. That’s OK, too. We can grieve it after it’s gone, allow some space before moving on to something new.
You are far from alone in feeling anxiety about saying “done” on a project. Next time you feel this way, envision “Saturday Night Live” performers backstage around 11:20 p.m. on Saturday night. They’re pumped, psyched, filled with adrenaline—and, yes, talking themselves through those last-minute doubts and fears.
Strategies to try
Set an early deadline
Create a deadline for yourself a day, two days or more ahead of the project deadline. If time is a construct for all of us, it can be positively metamorphic for creative people. We can let it mess with our heads a bit. Maybe those extra few days will feel like permission to be late. Maybe they will allow you to “procrastinate” and feel the pressure you seem to need to complete a project.
Follow the Russian tradition of sitting with your suitcases
In Russia, it’s considered bad luck to leave for a journey without first sitting for a moment in silence. This practice has the unintended frequent benefit of opening the headspace to remember forgotten items or tasks. When we stop working on our project at long last and build in time—several hours, several days, whatever is appropriate for the scope of the work—to be apart from it, we can often locate meaningful issues, rather than the obsessive ones that seem to leap from the page or screen when we are in the thick of things. A little distance is almost always helpful.
Enlist readers
Invite a trusted reader or readers (very few!) into your project. These should be people who are not necessarily your formal editors but people who you trust to give you valued perspective, honest and constructive feedback, and gentle but firm real talk. Do not engage with someone who will say only, “This is great! I loved it! No changes!” Ask someone who will tell you about structural problems, character inconsistencies, language that doesn’t jibe. In short, you want a passionate reader to be your reader. Be clear with them what you need and want from them. Set boundaries and expectations. Be transparent about your process and how you need to receive feedback.
Listen to your body
My body tells me very clearly when something is right and when something is wrong. Maybe yours does, too. If it’s comfortable for you, sit for some time in silence and consider how your body is holding your feelings about your almost finished or finished work. Do you feel any stuckness? In my writing process, I can feel a lump in my chest and throat as I work through tangles and blocks. When I clear those thickets, I can feel clarity and light in my head, and sometimes a metallic smoothness in my fingers as they move. Sometimes our bodies can tell us truths when our minds insist on continuing to chatter.