How I trained myself to be a finisher of things

(Author’s note: I wrote this originally back in 2018 when I had a PS4.)

I’m sitting here feeling guilty.

I have an article (this one) to finish, but I just bought a PlayStation 4.

I told everyone I wasn’t going to get into video games because it takes time and energy.

It’s yet another distraction; another expense — and I’m supposed to be dedicated to a highly productive year of making things.

I was supposed to have this completed several hours ago, but I’ve been shopping.

I buckled. And now the machine — boxed — is sitting there by the TV looking at me, shrouded in a subtle glow that says: play with me.

Another prickly wave runs through my chest.

“Much of the stress that people feel doesn’t come from having too much to do. It comes from not finishing what they started.” ~David Allen

So this is Step 1 towards finishing this article: I silence my inner eight year-old, and I slide the PS4 behind the sofa. Distractions must be out of sight, and mind.

I then promise myself that I can play for twenty minutes after I’ve finished — as a reward. Step 2.

Feeling a little better now.

I take a breath, swivel my eyes in their sockets, and consider all the other things that will help me finish this:

Firstly, I must remember to respect the finish. Finishing is the slightly less attractive sister of Consistency. What use is consistency — of showing up every day — of starting — when I don’t finish?

Finishing things is a lost art. And I am here to master that art.

I glance up at the new poster I have on the wall. It says: I AM A DISCIPLE OF THE FINISH

Next to it hangs a large wall calendar where I mark a big red X on each day that I complete the thing (thanks Seinfeld).

The day is empty now, but I will make sure it gets marked.

I remind myself what the greatest reason is for getting this done. Who’s the one person I’m writing this for, and how will their lives improve from reading it?

Who do I owe this to?

Why must this absolutely get done, no matter what?

What will it look like?

How will it make them feel? How will it make me feel?

What will be the look on their faces when they see it?

Got it. A little more ready now…

…But getting this done is still scary. What if people don’t like it? What if people say bad things about it? What if I offend someone?

Ah yes. Haters. I forgot. I’m seeking out haters, not avoiding them, because I know that having haters is a sign that my presence — my getting something done — reminds them of their inadequacy.

Work that polarises means that there will be people who love it.

So I am active in my search for both haters and lovers.

One of the things that worries me, though, is making this just right. This holds me back, because I know how important this is for me.

I remind myself that there is no such thing as finishing one-hundred percent. Nothing that was ever finished, was truly ‘finished.’

Ninety percent done and sent, without the polish, is categorically superior than something that was supposed to be ‘perfect,’ which stayed in the desk drawer.

Nobody who finished great things ever felt they had it figured out, either.

Those who appear genius-like, are as clueless as I am about most things.

They just hung in there long enough, with one thing, stringing together enough ‘finishes,’ to create the final picture of the overnight success that they now appear to be.

I know that when I abandon what had potential, I am abandoning myself.

I am abandoning the few who’s lives could have improved from what I gave.

I think hard about why what I’m doing has value, and I see that it does.

I’m adding to the energy of discussion and exchange that moves the world forward. Even if it is a tide of information and noise.

If I’m wrong, at least I made a contribution — one that is needed, because no one else is like me. No one else has experienced the world like I have.

“It’s easier to ask for forgiveness, than to ask for permission.” ~ Grace Hopper

I let go of my fear of being wrong, because there is no such thing as ‘wrong’.

There is no ‘right’ choice. The only right move was in deciding and acting, despite the resistance.

I’m no longer looking solely for quality. That perfect thing. I’m looking for prolific. I want to make that dent, and that dent requires weight.

When my approach is to produce a lot, no longer does any one thing delivered worry me so much. If I create crap, so what? That thing will be lost in sea of inspired output, created with urgency.

I’m on a journey of prolific — like Picasso, Barbara Cartland, or Asimov (who, let’s be honest, did produce plenty of crap, but still made a dent).

What’s in my head is chaos. None of the pieces seem to fit together. I can’t start this, let alone finish it. It’s so. Damn. Complicated.

I don’t focus on complicated. I commit to a basic, minimal version of what is in my head.

The alpha version.

I do the first tiny piece of alpha, and then cling on to the next piece to bob to the surface.

I still feel uncomfortable though. Even though I sort of know what I need to do, I’m on edge. I’m a little bored if I’m honest.

Can’t I just do this other thing for a couple of minutes? I have an email that just popped up that I need to respond to. I can treat it as a quick break anyway. I’ll come right back.

No. The reason I have trouble finishing is because I can’t stay with this tickle. I’m not scared. I’m just bored. This abundant, jacked up world has taught me that running from one island to the next is ok. But it’s a lie.

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island of opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this.”

~Henry David Thoreau

I must go vertical, rather than horizontal. I must be a better steward of what is right in front of me. My island.

I need to be grateful for the opportunity.

But pal, let’s face it. I need to toughen up too.

When I see through the eyes of a warrior, I can start to deal with — even enjoy — the resistance.

I expect and accept that there is darkness, and with that I can start to relax.

I act with a heightened intrigue in what I’m doing.

I hold fast.

I finally finish.

🔆

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