Issue 41: Notes on Finishing Things

Issue 41 · Friday · a seven-minute read, give or take a cup of tea

Dear reader,

Good morning. This is the longest letter I've sent in a while, and it has a few sections, so feel free to skip around. Start with the essay if you've got coffee and the three short things if you haven't.

This week's essay: on finishing

I have eleven unfinished pieces in a folder called "Almost". Some of them are two years old. The folder's name is a small lie, because most of the files are nowhere near almost.

For a long time I thought the problem was discipline. If I just sat down for longer, I'd finish. Then I noticed that the pieces I did finish had something in common, and it wasn't discipline. They had edges. I knew roughly how long they'd be, who they were for, and what the last sentence would do. The unfinished ones were openings with no sense of where they were going.

So here's what I've started doing. Before I write a word, I write the ending. Not the real one, just a rough note on where the piece lands: "ends with the kettle", or "ends by asking you a question". It takes a minute. The note gives me somewhere to walk towards, and when I get lost I can look up and see the light.

It isn't a cure. Four of my eleven files are probably dead and ought to be buried with ceremony. But the habit has changed what I start, which turns out to matter more than how hard I push on what I've already begun.

Three short things

• Read: a short story about a woman who repairs umbrellas. Nothing happens and I loved it.

• Try: finishing something small today, before lunch. A postcard, an email you've been avoiding, a shelf. Notice the feeling.

• Notice: how many of your own unfinished things are really abandoned things. There's no shame in that. It's just good to know which ones you're keeping out of habit.

From the inbox

Dev wrote in after Issue 39 to say that he moved his list over the summer and followed the overlap advice to the letter. "Lost eleven people," he said. "Gained a lot of peace." He asked me to pass on his thanks to everyone who answered his survey about letter length, which I'm happy to do.

Annelise sent a postcard, an actual one, with a drawing of a kettle on it and the words "we finish things, too". I've pinned it above my desk.

Not everything needs finishing. But everything deserves a decision.

That one's from a reader who prefers to stay unnamed, and I think it's the wisest sentence I've received all year.

The postscript

Next week I'm taking a break from the usual and writing about the oldest object in my house. It's a clock that has never kept the right time. I think it has something to teach me about being on schedule.

Until then, be kind to your drafts, and finish at least one small thing.

Yours, Hollis

You're receiving this because you chose to. The archive is always open, and so is the door.