The definition of “done”

How do you know when it’s time to get out of the pool? (Image by Rosy)

One of the most accomplished people I know tends to think of herself as someone who doesn’t stick with things.

Where I see advanced degrees, she sees multiple aborted careers.

When I point to her array of creative works, she dismisses them as insubstantial.

It’s true that my friend’s reach exceeds her grasp, which tends to be the case for ambitious, high-achieving people. But I wonder: what would it take for her to see each of her ventures as a successful experiment or completed project?

It makes me sad when a creative person with many passionate interests and useful skills sees themselves as a dabbler, dilettante, or even a failure because they have had a variety of pursuits over the course of their career.

Serial endeavors are fundamental to the work of artists and entrepreneurs. It’s a feature, not a bug.

How might we change our definition of “done” to accommodate our natural tendencies — and to encourage ourselves to persist where it really matters to us?

Consider the IMDB page of a successful actress. She’ll have film and television credits stretching back to her early twenties, many of which were small parts in forgettable or even terrible productions. Along the way, she’ll have turned down many roles and been passed over for many others. Theoretically, she will have leveraged a given role to get a better one whenever possible, but her progress will not have been linear. And some of those jobs were taken on purely for the paycheck.

Or have a look at the Wikipedia bio for a famous entrepreneur. People like this create companies that fail, companies that they walk away from, companies that cause them to get subpoenaed by Senate committees. They get ousted from leadership for “leaving work early to enjoy other pursuits, such as yoga and fashion design.”

Oh, and they drop out of college. Obviously.

It seems to me that what is important here is not whether we stay with what we’ve started but how we feel about our choices and the story we tell about them. Did I fail to finish my burrito, or did simply I eat until I was full?

If the Clean Plate Club is is my goal, I guess I can decide to be disappointed in myself that I didn’t get there. On the other hand, I can recognize the arbitrariness of those success criteria and choose ones that are more aligned with what I care about.

In fact, whether we’re talking about a college degree or the consumption of a burrito, seeing a project through to completion carries a cost. The accomplishment itself might not mean anything to us and, in fact, might put us farther away from where we want to be.

My own career has been full of incomplete works of art, terminated ventures, and unfinished business. But whatever I’ve quit, I quit for a reason. That gave me the energy and resources to work on something else (until it was time to quit that, too).

I don’t look at my projects as a string of failures, though. Why not look at them as a string of successes? Knowing when to quit is an important skill. Experimentation is also valuable. And when I get bored, I move on to the next thing, which wouldn’t exist if I felt a responsibility to hold onto my first thing forever.

True, there’s a difference between spending a few months learning to paint watercolors and launching a tech startup that offers you a nine-figure exit. But in each case, you got out of it what you wanted, and then moved on. I call that a win.

What about the person who is scared to commit to a given project and quits before he’s gotten out of it what he wanted? For him, I might recommend placing smaller bets. Design a project that allows you to walk away a winner. Instead of, “I will learn to play piano,” which is a poorly defined target that could take decades to achieve, say, “I will take piano lessons for three months,” or “I will practice the piano for a total of twenty hours.” That way, you can do the thing, check it off the list, and move on — or create a follow-up project.

I have undertaken my latest venture with the full knowledge that I will be looking for something else to do within a few years. That is not a moral weakness or a lack of determination and perseverance. I just like to switch things up.

If you are hanging on to a narrative that casts you as a flake who has no follow-through, what would it take to let go? Is there a way you can possibly see yourself as a person who is willing to take risks, who likes adventure and variety, and who has more than one great idea you’d like to explore?

Maybe you’ll drift around aimlessly, a rebel without a cause or a clue. But you also might find the spark of desire to achieve something that matters to you. If you get clear on what success would look like, you might be more motivated to do the work required — especially if you’ve made it something that you truly believe you can do. After all, it’s a lot easier to be part of the Clean Plate Club if you take a smaller portion to begin with.

Of course, these smaller bites may not satisfy you. Maybe you will never lose your longing for massively ambitious goals and transcendent achievements. Perhaps, then, you can strive for them with joy and confidence.

You are not someone who doesn’t stick with things. You’re someone who never stops wanting things. That’s a very different problem, and one that I hope you can accept and embrace.