Insert cliché AA-style introduction here.
If you’re reading this, you likely have the same affliction I had for most of my writing life—the inability to finish a project. And you’re sick of it. You’re ready for a change.
I applaud you for recognizing your tendencies and seeking ways to change that. It took me ten years to realize I had to change my ways.
You read that right. Ten years’ worth of writing projects are lost forever. I was a serial project abandoner, and I destroyed all the evidence along the way. There’s no getting those stories back.
Granted, most of those years writing were pre-adulthood, but still. That’s a lot, and it’s tragic. Let’s explore this tragedy together, shall we?
A Very Brief History of My Project Abandonment
I have been scribbling stories for as long as I’ve been able to hold a pen. And it’s been almost as long that I’ve been prematurely deciding that my work didn’t meet my own standards. No matter how long or how hard I worked on a story, it was always going in the recycling bin—physical, and later digital.
Not long after my fourth grade teacher initially pulled me aside to tell me I had a talent for writing, I started writing a book. I can tell you that it was called The Farmer in the Dell. The protagonist was a farm girl, but that’s about all I remember. I can confirm that, at ten, I didn’t know what a dell was. I still don’t.
Well, like most ten year-old girls, I got distracted, and moved onto other projects (that, and I cannot stress this enough, I also didn’t finish). When I rediscovered the pages upon pages of notebook paper that was The Farmer in the Dell, I threw it all away. It wasn’t executed perfectly, and something I’d written longer than thirty seconds ago couldn’t possibly hold its own, and it was pointless to try to salvage it.
And I do mean “longer than thirty seconds ago,” too. I threw away genuinely promising stories from every genre that were only a week or a few days old. It drove my earliest beta readers—Momma, Daddy, my brother, my extended family, and my friends—crazy.
You may have different root causes for becoming a project abandoner, but mine was absolutely perfectionism. I compared each childhood first draft to the polished books on my shelves, and I was hurt when my work fell short. So I’d start a new story and hope for better luck next time.
And that nasty cycle would’ve repeated ad infinitum, but I learned better.
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bombshell
What is the bombshell? That we mere mortals have about a hundred years—if we’re lucky—to live on the big, blue marble we call Earth.
It’s not a very special revelation, I know. Most people have this thought at some point in their lives. It’s commonly called an existential crisis. I call it, “listening to Hamilton for the first time and getting hit by a massive wave of feelings.” (Please be warned that, if you look up the album, there is explicit language.)
In Hamilton, there are two characters who are at odds—Hamilton and Burr. Without getting too deep into it, these men have opposing views of life. Hamilton believes in taking immediate action, while Burr believes in waiting for the right moment.
I lived most of my life as a Burr. When it was first suggested to me—by my little brother, with the full-throated support of my parents—that I should publish my stories, I balked. I was a preteen, and I didn’t think my stories were nearly good enough. I balked again when they mentioned doing the same thing when I was a high schooler.
In 2015, the year I started college, Hamilton released. Two songs from Hamilton in particular, “Non-Stop” and “Hurricane,” changed my perspective. The former asks Hamilton why he writes like he’s running out of time. (I won’t spoil the play, but if you remember anything from American history classes, you know where that’s going.) The latter comes at a pivotal point in the play, when Hamilton realizes he’s gotten himself into an impossible situation, but just like the tragedy that’s haunted him his whole life, writing his story can help him rise from the ashes.
Lesson One, learned from “Non-Stop”: I am running out of time, just as everyone is, and I should make the most of it—namely by finishing my projects and sending them out to the world.
Lesson Two, learned from “Hurricane”: I can write my way in and out of anything. I ought to proceed with caution, but not delay or wait for better circumstances.
Within a year, I was published in an online lit mag for the first time, with another publication in an anthology hot on its heels.
The Part You Actually Came Here For
Since recognizing the error of my ways, I’ve noticed that my output has increased dramatically. Now, because I more readily share those finished drafts with critique partners and gotten feedback, my work has improved in quality, too.
But I didn’t become a former project abandoner overnight. It took a long time to unlearn my behaviors. These are my best tips for teaching yourself to finish your work.
Tip #1: Start short.
Flash fiction is a great way to exercise your writing muscles and learn to finish projects. I think I actually started with six-word stories from Twitter prompts, and grew from there. They’re so short, finishing them doesn’t take much time at all, which is one fewer barrier to completion!
If you’re looking for inspiration, or if this is your first encounter with this medium, BookBub’s blog has a great list of short stories you can read for free.
Tip #2: Make promises.
This one is scarier. Tell a friend—a writer friend or otherwise—that you’re going to submit a story to a writing contest or literary magazine by their deadline. Adding external pressure is an excellent way to force yourself to finish something. You said you’d do it, and one is only as good as one’s word. If your heart belongs to novels or poetry, you should look into NaNoWriMo and NaPoWriMo.
Maybe you know yourself, and you think this won’t work. You’re fine letting it pass, and your friend won’t admonish you for missing the deadline. Okay. Then put a story up for pre-order on Amazon.com before you write it. Give yourself plenty of time to write (and edit, proofread, get a cover, etc.), plus a little room for error, and there’s no reason why it wouldn’t get done, right?
In case you’re wondering, yes, I’ve done this to myself before. And over here, too. Trust me, you will find a way to get it done (or else you’ll lose the ability to put a book up for pre-order for a year).
Tip #3: Work on what you love.
I saved my favorite for last. If you are truly, madly, deeply in love with the idea you have for your project, you’ll find it incredibly hard to abandon. We all have stories we’re saving for when we’re ready to “get serious” or after we’ve hit some perceived quality benchmark. I encourage you to start working on that project now. Give it your all.
In doing this, you might find that it’s not the right time for that story. You can put it away to marinate, but jump into another project with equal zeal, and find a way to remind yourself that you have another brain child who’ll need to be attended to eventually. A sticky note on your closet door, a note in your planner, or an alarm on your phone—whatever it takes.
In a future post, I’ll dive deeper into how I choose which project to work on. Until then . . .
How do you plan to become a former project abandoner?
Megan Fuentes is an historical fiction author and the administrative assistant for Writer’s Atelier. Her favorite things in the world include iced coffee, office supplies, and telling you about those things. And writing, too. And lists!
You can find her books on Amazon.com, and you can follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads.
