Is Writing Ever Finished?

Writing Is a Process Because Improvement Is a Process.

Improvement is an ongoing process. As a runner who participates in various short races (and the very occasional half-marathon), I enjoy tracking my progress, as well as my setbacks. I will most likely never win a race, but I like to compete against myself: will my time today be better than last week’s?

Improvement in running, though, is more quantitative than in writing. In writing, improvement is usually seen through academic grades or submission acceptances, both of which have some amount of subjectivity in them.

Whenever I’ve taught writing, I’ve presented my students with the idea of writing as a process, and I’ve told them something I was once told: “Writing is never finished; it’s just due.” (I have no idea who to credit this statement to, but that person was very wise.)

Finished…for Now.

By telling my students that writing is never finished, my intent is not to terrify them (“What do you mean? I just have to keep revising…FOREVER?!!”); on the contrary, my intent is to put their minds at ease, to let them know that I don’t expect “perfect” final drafts. What I am more interested in seeing is the improvement that occurs between the first draft and the last one—improvement that is often based heavily on peer feedback or feedback from me (the teacher).

The other part of this notion of writing never being finished is to help students (or anyone who writes) understand that most people edit and revise multiple times. When you read an essay, a story, or a book, it’s important to realize that that essay, story, or book didn’t magically appear in its published form. Books especially are often the product of years of work.

There comes a point with most any project/endeavor when one simply has to declare it “finished,” but I’m suggesting adding a “for now” to that: it’s finished…for now. When I “finished” (i.e., made public) my website, for example, I was nervous because I knew it wasn’t actually “finished.” But if I kept tweaking it until it was perfect, no one would ever see it because it would never be perfect. There is always something that can be changed; there is always something that can be added. Perfection is a misconception that we must let go of to some extent.

So, How Do You Know When Your Writing Is “Done”?

If writing is never finished, how do you determine when it’s “done”? When I hit a personal best in running, I know it. It’s not always as obvious with writing, though acceptance into a journal may be one indicator. Often, though, we consider our writing to be finished when we are–when we just can’t take it anymore.

The stages of writing can take different forms, and so can the declaration of a piece being finished. It often depends on the project at hand. Writing an email, for example, doesn’t usually take too much editing or revision, especially if it’s something informal being sent to a family or close friend. Deciding when it’s done and ready to send is (usually) a lot less stressful than deciding when to submit an academic paper.

When we have deadlines or due dates, it’s easy (sort of) to know when something is done simply because it’s due. Without deadlines, though, how do we know?

Ask Others to Read Your Work.

Having others read your work is valuable for many reasons. Readers can help point out places where your prose is unclear or where it simply doesn’t make sense. They can also point out plot holes or characterization deficiencies. Or they might simply tell you that the story is or isn’t engaging (and will hopefully follow that up with suggestions to make it more exciting). Academic or technical works usually require validation from others (e.g., peer-reviewed journals). It’s important to reach out to others because different perspectives can help you grow as a writer (and researcher).

Look for a Sense of Personal Satisfaction.

We often know when we do something good. Many of us feel a sense of satisfaction when we know we’ve done our best on something. Seven years ago or so, I played in a ping-pong tournament. I didn’t win–didn’t even come close to winning–but I performed better than I was expecting to. I felt a sense of achievement and personal satisfaction, despite being one of the worst players in the tournament. There’s just a certain feeling associated with trying your best, and I think the same concept can be applied to writing. When you feel a sense of satisfaction–a sense of achievement–with what you’ve written, that may be the point to consider it done.

This feeling of satisfaction often occurs after many drafts. Maybe you’ve struggled with a certain plot point and all of the sudden it becomes clear. You get an adrenaline rush, and you just know.

But beware! This may just be a temporary feeling. And that’s okay! Because improvement is a process, it’s natural that something you wrote and were satisfied with four years ago may not give you a current sense of satisfaction. This merely reiterates the point that improvement–like writing itself–is an ongoing process.

Understand that Completion is Temporary.

After you’ve gotten input from others and, hopefully, felt a sense of satisfaction with your piece, you also want to remind yourself that completion of a writing project is often temporary. Here’s that phrase I mentioned before: It’s finished…for now.

A couple of years ago I read Samantha Hunt’s remarkable collection of stories called The Dark Dark. The one story in the collection that I didn’t care for was “A Love Story.” However, I was alerted to an edited version of the same story in The New Yorker, and it was amazing. The lesson I learned: Even if it’s published, a piece may not be “done.”

This idea that writing is never finished–that completion is only temporary–should not be an added weight on your shoulders. I look at it as a kind of freedom. It allows me to accept that something is “done,” but it also gives me the option to return to it later, too. In a sense, it’s giving myself permission to not be perfect; it’s giving myself permission to continue improving.

If I wouldn’t expect a “perfect” paper from a student, then I shouldn’t expect it from myself either. It’s freeing to think that even after something gets published, there’s a chance (depending on the circumstances) that I can still make tweaks to it. I’ve had pieces published–poetry, a short story–a long time ago that I’m no longer fond of and wouldn’t want to share with others. And that’s okay. They were finished at the time…for now.

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[Post updated on 5-26-20 by the author, demonstrating the point that writing is never finished, even if it’s been previously published or posted.]