My draft is stuck at "almost done"

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12.10.2024

On removing the albatross from your back

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The Albatross from Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Image source here.

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One of my private clients and I talk a lot about birds.

Specifically, one particular albatross, which is the one he designed around his writing time early on in his career, and one that we’ve rather successfully pulled off his back over the last few years of working together.

It’s a slightly imperfect metaphor here, as you might guess if you’ve read The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but it’s close enough to get the job done.

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Reshaping your whole relationship to writing is a big, courageous act and I’m very proud of him: But no matter how good we feel about our writing, once in a while that feeling of writing as an inescapable weight can come back.

We rarely feel our writing as a weight when we’re excited about the work, and we’re drafting out early outlines of a new idea, reveling in each new spark of insight, or finely turned word.

But when the manuscript is almost together, and we’re doing the revisions? That’s when the weight of the albatross tends to drop firmly back on our shoulders.

The reasons it shows up vary for each of us: We’re scared of finishing a project because it’s become such a big part of us or we don’t want to relinquish control. We want it to be just perfect before we send it off to an editor. Or we’re scared of being seen, and sharing our ideas publicly makes us publicly visible. Or revising just doesn’t feel as fun, or generative, or energizing as drafting the ideas in the first place.

Or something else. You’ve probably already identified the reasons an albatross might exist for you, on that list or otherwise.

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In my workshops and client support, I focus a lot on reconnecting with the pleasure of writing, and here’s one surprising way that pays dividends later: When pleasure is the focus early on, reconnecting with your flow (and enjoying it) when things are tough becomes a lot easier.

It’s the first step in a journey towards writing that, over time, feels generally better: And where the weight of the albatross feels less pronounced, and shows up infrequently.

That’s not to say every day of writing will feel like perfect or that writing will never feel like a slog: But there are ways to minimize that feeling as you move your draft towards completion.

And rather than thinking of it as a race to the finish that leaves you run ragged, think of the tactics that could help you remove the albatross from your back that’s slowing you down.

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Removing your albatross requires some tough (but compassionate) love

So building pleasure into your creative work is step one to a more resilient writing practice that helps you reconnect to your flow. And it’s a wonderful first step.

But when you notice that you’re really resisting finishing up a project, it’s time for some tough, but kind, self-love.

That resistance might look like:

Getting stuck in the weeds with one point in your work: So rather than letting your momentum flow, you sit and stagnate on one paragraph/section/etc. The visual that comes to mind for me here is a slow, lumbering hurricane: The kind that sits over one spot for longer than you’d expect. That visual might be a bit extreme, but we’re just out of hurricane season, so if you also live in the south, maybe it resonates with you too.
Overanalyzing your argument as a whole: You know it makes sense, you know it’s clear, but you keep second guessing it and picking it apart only to toss it back together in largely the same shape again.
Various other forms of productive procrastination, like doing “just one more search” for relevant articles to make sure you’ve cited everything you possibly can on the subject.

I have lots more to say on all of these (re: the last point, for example, when you’re an expert in something you really want your reader to get the nuance they need to fully understand a topic. But depending who your reader is, they may not want or need that).

But for the purposes of this newsletter issue, I’m going to share what my client and I did this week to address that resistance for him, based on what’s worked for me (and other clients of mine) in the past.

If you’re feeling stuck towards the end of a draft, try one/all of these:

Let your editor be an editor, and let your draft be a draft: We often get stuck nitpicking our drafts because we want them to be perfect. Remembering that this is a draft, subject to change later on, can be helpful: I’ve even had a few clients write the above as a mantra and stick it near their desks.
Clarity, not perfection: If we’re sticking with the idea that this draft will be edited again before it reaches readers (which it almost certainly will), then at least one of those perfectly crafted sentences you agonized over will probably be changed or removed.
That’s not to say “do sloppy work,” but rather do the best you can without agonizing.
One way to do that? Ask if what you’re writing gets the idea across clearly, even if the wording doesn’t feel 100% perfect. That clarity makes editing easier, and ensures your thoughts stay intact, but helps separate the clarity of the ideas from trying to find that one best, perfect way to say them (related: remembering every draft, and indeed every piece of writing, is imperfect in some way can help too).
Time management is your friend: It’s easy to get lost in the weeds with revisions. Next thing you know, you look up and 2 hours have passed while you’ve been agonizing over how to transition between paragraphs or work in a footnote.
We all do this at least sometimes, and it’s a sign of your dedication to your craft, so it’s nothing to be ashamed of.
BUT, you also want to get this draft done, so try dividing your time up clearly: designate specific amounts of time to specific tasks and stick with it.
If you say you’ll do two pomodoros on this one paragraph, then get clear on what exactly needs to happen in that time, and once that timer dings, put the paragraph away. As my client said today, “I can worry about this, but only for 25 minutes. That’s all of my attention that it gets.”
Set clear goals that combine fun stuff with the hard stuff, and stick with them: With this particular client, one issue we ran into was that his revisions were dragging on for so long that the fun parts of writing felt like they were on another riverbank, “over there” and out of reach.
To address this, I asked him to choose one fun thing to begin his writing practice with (e.g. fleshing out an idea he’s excited about), and then one discrete, time-bounded chunk of writing (like one pomodoro) spent working that idea into the manuscript or revising the idea.
For sections where all the ideas are in place already, the exact tasks might shift: But starting with the thing you’re excited about and letting that momentum carry you through one 25 minute block of writing helps remove the sloggy feeling.
I recommend drafting paragraphs, filling in quotes, etc. and then, the next day, doing another timed block where you revise with fresh eyes. And after that, let it rest.
Set a clear end date, and stick with it: If you’re really struggling to wrap up a writing project that’s so so very close to being done, set an end date and stick with it. Mark it in your calendar, even.
That’s the day you’ll stop working on the manuscript (or that chapter, or that article, or whatever) and close the file.
Given that you only have a limited amount of time to work in, think clearly about what needs to happen most urgently to get the work to a finished form in that time.
If you only have a week for example, and you have one more paragraph to write, prioritize that paragraph first, then use remaining time to go through and polish other stuff.
Celebrate, and look forward to what’s next: Thinking about what’s next after this project is done, and choosing a way to celebrate yourself, are great ways to generate excitement and remind yourself that this project isn’t the be all and end all: You’ve got lots of other great writing ahead.

When you’re at the end of a writing project, what techniques work for you?

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