It's not a failure: Making peace with not finishing

Entering a new year with a real-world perspective on not finishing

Dec 31, 2023

So many of us drag the “you have to finish the book” perspective onto our creative lives. We get caught up in a mindset that values finishing over fulfillment. Today, a reminder that it’s okay to not finish.

Hello, happy Sunday, and happy New Year’s Eve! I hope your traditions and rituals for these days are calm and peaceful. Although, if you have a polar bear plunge tradition, I would love to know!

There are so many threads to gather as the year draws to its close. Bundling up all the ends, as best you can, gives some sense of intentionality to the transition into the new year. Holding the year that was as a complete ball of time in your hand, looking back at the shifting images that stand out, roll across the surface, emerge through the mist… the moment of pause, of reflection, of “ah…. these were the things,” helps give a sense of closure. I don’t always make this happen though. Sometimes, I really do feel like I roll into the new year dragging all the loose ends behind and hoping I can still tuck everything in. Ultimately, I know the year marker is an artificial one. The tapestry in progress is the same. The change in date just helps give us footholds, boundaries, ways to count and catalog, mile markers on the map. Are we almost there yet?

There have been moments of strangeness this week, things jumping out at me or making me wonder “why, in this moment?” There will be time for these threads next week when we start Sidewalk Oracles. Already, I feel like I’m opening, inviting something in this coming year, poised to more simply accept and embody things that feel central to the way I move through the world but that, maybe, I often hold just a bit of to the side. What changes if I let down my guard? In so many ways, that has become a question I’ve been polishing.

I’ve been thinking about my Word of the Year. As has often been the case, the word that seems to not want to let go is one that makes me uncomfortable. It may be what I need. I might retreat to a synonym on the list that has also been swirling. I am always surprised how the words emerge when I’m not looking or when I first glance that way. Every year’s word doesn’t end up powerful and rooted, but every time I sit and hold a possible word for the year ahead, it is with the hope that the word might guide a year in ways that will nurture, support, inspire, and surprise me. (I don’t reveal my word directly until the end of the year, if ever. I may use it and hint at it and circle around it again and again, but I tend to hold the claiming of it private for the year. I’m superstitious that way.)

I’ve been making some ad-hoc lists:

Books (to read)
Projects (and tasks) I already do weekly
Projects I do at some point in the year
Projects I might want to add, especially weekly ones
What I did in 2023
24 for 24 (a life list; maybe a refinement of my “year” list, which never really solidified this year)

I know I can’t keep adding. The list of “tasks” I feel obligated to continue is extensive. Some of these are things I’ve been doing for years. There are so many things I want to “also” do, but I don’t know how to let go of things people have come to expect from me. I don’t know how to let go, even when things no longer serve me well. I am talking with myself, in the periphery, about this, about why I am hesitant or even afraid to let go, about the fact that I can only keep piling on so many new things and doing them well, or well enough, before something cracks. How can things be so full and so empty at the same time? What is most fulfilling right now? What will see me through? What happens if I close doors, simplify?

We are low-key, even boring, in our year transitions, but we have a longstanding tradition of “finishing” something on New Year’s Eve, which sets the stage for “starting” something on New Year’s Day. (We take “whatever you do on New Year’s Day, you’ll do all year long” pretty seriously). I may just end up tucking in the ends of something I finished this week. That feels like a bit of a fudge, but I’m okay with it. Since my illustrated journal is my primary creative project, putting the final touches on Week 52 will be a point of closure that also checks the box for finishing something.

The rules we make about what counts in our creative lives are our own. Make your own rules. When it comes to your creative life, you don’t have to follow other people’s rules.

Today, a bit about “finishing” and a reminder that it’s okay to not finish. In my many years doing the podcast and talking about creative life, this is something that has become a pillar for me, right alongside guiding premises like “it’s okay to love what you do.” So many of us drag the “you have to finish the book” perspective onto our creative lives. We get caught up in a mindset that values finishing over fulfillment. Today, a reminder that it’s okay to not finish.

A new year of Illustrate Your Week starts today. I’m behind in posting some of the “get started” info I planned, but really, it’s as simple as starting and recording something each day with both words and illustrations milling together on the page. Using a “weekly” format lets you build something contained and yet flexible over a series of days. This reduces the pressure to “finish” something daily. Pick and choose and record details from the week throughout the week. You’ll find more info in the Week 1 prompts. You can start at any time, but if you have that strand within you that particularly likes full cycles, a Week 1 start is a nice point of entry.

I hope you have a peaceful end of the year and transition into the new year. Thank you for being a part of my New Year’s Eve.

Amy

Illustrate Your Week is a free project. Most posts on the Illustrated Life substack are free to read. If you enjoy the year-long prompt series or find it a helpful part of your creative life, paid subscription options are available. Tip jar donations are always appreciated.

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"Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour." — John Boswell

Final pages of the year as I finish up my illustrated journal for 2023. — Pages from the final weeks of 2023 in my illustrated journal. (The blank spot is where my weekly self-portrait still needs to go!) A. Cowen

Finishing (Or Not)

Finishing… it’s been on my mind a lot in recent weeks. I’ve been scrambling to keep things together, and yet this voice in the back of my head has been tallying the year and highlighting, underscoring, and drawing arrows to the fact that a lot of things went unfinished this year.

The number of hours I’ve spent sitting in a hospital room in the last four months is notable. Part of me knows those are hours that have taken away from other things. We aren’t supposed to think this way, of course. But it’s there, that slightly uncomfortable underside of human nature. I knit my way through some of those hours. We played daily Connections and talked about Wordle. An obsession (not mine) with the NYT Spelling Bee dried up, but in the early days, we did a lot of word building, me sitting across the room, unnaturally still, and spinning words from the letters I’d been told, ensuring, of course, that the center letter was used.

The sense of stillness in all of that sitting has been pervasive.

Christmas Day warranted another 911 call, another hospitalization. I’m feeling a bit frayed around the edges. It’s fair to set the stage with that. I’ve been thinking about all the things that have gone unfinished, and I know my thoughts are emerging from a point in time, from the winding down of these months. But I also know that the “unfinishing” started much earlier in the year. The recent months are not to blame.

It simply was a year marked by a number of projects started and dropped. Looking back at the year, I see a string of abandoned projects lining the path. That is something I’ve really had to think about.

One thing that hasn’t gone unfinished this year is this space. That’s a good thing, but there is always a give and take. Push one lever and another slides the opposite way. Sometimes it feels like our energy functions like that, a system of checks and balances because there is only so much time and only so much energy. We make choices. We give some of our time to new projects and know that the donation comes out of another bucket. We are constantly shifting and sliding our time and attention.

Sometimes we create a bit of alchemy, and we seem to be able to wring a bit of extra, squeeze something new in, shuffle things just enough to do both or do more. Usually, something somewhere down the chain starts to lose a bit of air or shine. Sometimes it is subtle. Sometimes, it is simply okay, a natural evolution, and we don’t really miss what we are letting go.

Not finishing is sometimes an act of letting go.

Last year, I wrote and talked about not finishing the stitch journal I started for 2022. It was a project I really wanted to do. I made it six months, and then my car was totaled (while parked) and my dog died. These things are related only in proximity of time, but I often hang my lack of completion near those events, neither of which I stitched in place. I tried to keep it going, but I finally gave in, called it a wash, and had to deal with my feelings about not finishing. (Episode 483: Atmospheric River + Did Not Finish)

I kept telling myself, for weeks, that I would catch up, that I would still finish. I was determined to finish. I had talked about the project publicly. I was enamored with all of it. There was a serendipitous or symbolic “ice cream truck” moment at the start of the year. It was an important project. I loved how it looked. But, ultimately, I let it go.

Finally giving in and admitting that I wasn’t going to finish, giving myself the grace of saying “it’s okay to just stop and admit it’s over” made a huge difference. That moment of admission, as hard as it was (and it took months), was an act of self-care. It wasn’t a moment of failure. It was, instead, a moment of releasing.

Many years ago, maybe one of the first years that I viewed my art as “daily,” I drew or worked in a sketchbook every day during the whole year…. every day but one. That “one” was really early in the year, too. (Episode 287: All but One)

My history with tracking creative life via the podcast has helped me accept imperfect series, missed days, and dropped projects, but this year was notable. This year was extreme. This year was different than all the years before.

2023 — A Year of DNFs

This year there were a lot of projects that I did not finish. I don’t mean projects that I have put aside and will return to, projects I will finish at some point. These projects were abandoned. (You might call these DNFs, the same way you might record a book you started and stopped reading as a DNF in your reading log.)

Each time I dropped a project, I did so quietly. Every time I consciously let a project go, I felt like I was letting myself down, but I went on. Deep down, I know that I don’t have to finish things to prove something to others or to validate my work. That is what I would tell you, too. Even if you love what you are doing, some projects just fall away.

When I started a 100 day series of stone lanterns, a series that felt meaningful for me, and then fell off the path, I mourned the loss of light, but ultimately, I let the series go. When I started ICAD and did the first month or more of people in motion contours (drawing several each day) and then dropped off, I let it go. I started a stitch journal again for the year and made it a few months. I love the daily icons I recorded but, again, I let it go.

I am always aware the I have to make choices.

Unfinished stitch journal, 2023. A. Cowen

Letting go isn’t a natural act for me.

Not finishing isn’t typical.

I pride myself on self-discipline and self-accountability. In the absence of a real-world community of support, I feel fortunate to be someone who keeps showing up. I have good follow-through. But this year, I let a lot of projects quietly fall away.

I finished a lot of things, too. There is no doubt about that. I’ve maintained daily habits and projects, finished series, and added in weekly writing here and an increase in digital diary comics and sketchnoting.

Looking back, it’s easy to see the drops, the “did not finish” pile, but I try to focus on the overall balance.

Some things fell away; other things got added.

In the coming year, I’ll probably tackle some of the same projects again. Maybe they will work out this time, and maybe they won’t. As much as I would like to, I probably won’t start another stitch journal. Maybe I’ll start some other embroidery journal project. Or maybe I’ll shift the same “time” to doing some other “daily.” I don’t know exactly what my starting mix will be in the new year. What I do know is that I can’t let the pile of DNFs shake my faith in my creative work, in my self-discipline, or in my self-accountability.

It’s okay to not finish. It’s okay to abandon projects. It’s okay to do part of a series or challenge but not all of it.

Sometimes, giving up on a project is the right thing to do.
Sometimes, you don’t have to finish a project to get what you need from it.
You don’t have to finish a project for other people.
Some projects go unfinished because the timing was wrong.
Some projects go unfinished because other projects got in the way.
Some projects go unfinished because they just didn’t work.
Some projects go unfinished because they weren’t fulfilling enough.
Some projects go unfinished because you didn’t love them the way you thought you might.
Some projects go unfinished because something else came along that stole your heart.
Some projects simply get behind and then get left behind.

Don’t stick with projects that don’t make you happy, that don’t make you feel balanced or peaceful or mindful. Unless you have to finish because a project is tied to a job or to income, finishing is personal, and it is okay to say, “I’m done.” It is okay to sweep away the crumbs and clear the space to allow a new project.

The most important project might be the next one. Locking yourself into something that isn’t serving you well just means you might be missing out on the project that holds the key to everything.

Be gentle with yourself.

Are You a Teacher?

This was a funny moment for my son when he was getting a coffee. I’ve captured the bare bones of it in these sketches, but I liked the challenge. Did she wear purple? Probably not. Did he? No. Does this totally look like him? No. How old was she? I’m not sure. Younger than I think she looks in my panels. This is just my quick capture based on the story he told me.

Comic panels of young person asking young adult if he is a teacher — A. Cowen, 2023

Year-End Review and New-Year Planning

Illustrate Your Week

🎯🖋️ The Week 1 prompts for Illustrate Your Week are available.

Reading Sidewalk Oracles

If you are interested in reading Sidewalk Oracles: Playing with Signs, Symbols, and Synchronicity in Everyday Life (Robert Moss) with me, the timeline is here. The target for the first chapter is the end of the first week of January. I’ll make a post to open discussion, and you can access that from the app or a browser. A link will also be included in next Sunday’s regular email.

Made It?

Thank you for reading.

Your comments are a special part of each weekly post. I really appreciate your words.

This week:

Is there anything you didn’t finish that you need to just let go and release as the year ends
A project you hope to start or continue in the New Year
A word you are holding closely as you move into the year or that you plan to hold throughout the new year (if you want to share)
A book you are reading
Snowflake, crystal, or igloo

I’ll be drawing with a few people this morning, an easy way to close out the year and also welcome the coming year in my illustrated journal. (I draw casually with a small group of women via Zoom on the weekend. If you are ever interested, let me know.)