I used to believe that I had to finish something I started.
To be successful, accomplished or productive, I needed to tick off all the items on my to-do list. Finish the book. Watch the whole movie. Complete the painting.
Do you remember my series of posts called the Half-done projects? Where I gathered all the half-finished side quests and canvases in my studio and tried to complete them?
It was very short-lived – I think I finished four.
And while I did enjoy completing the ones I chose, what surprised me was the heavy guilt I felt. Seeing all those half-done pieces didn’t spark creativity or inspiration; it overwhelmed me.
I didn’t question the reason for abandoning that series; I just did.
Lately, I have been thinking about the power of not finishing.
It started with a simple statement. I was mid-whinge (I’m sure I was five minutes in) about my project not working, when Mac pointed out, “You know you don’t have to finish that?”
It made me stop. Because in all my moaning, stopping hadn’t even crossed my mind.
In other areas of my life, I have become quite good at not finishing – I happily skip over podcasts that don’t appeal. I have a long list of half-watched shows and movies that lost me halfway through. My DNF pile? Thriving. No guilt there.
However, when it comes to my art, it feels different. Like setting something aside feels like failure. Like giving up.
But what if not finishing is actually the most sacred and intuitive thing you can do?
Maybe not all ideas are meant to be finished. Maybe they are for trying new techniques, for stepping into flow, as a practice piece or for telling a story that never needed an ending.
Maybe it is for actually making space for new and better ideas, because every time we release something that isn’t working, we allow for something that will.
I feel the whole guilt thing surrounding the idea of not finishing comes from ingrained conditioning that tells us we don’t give in. We push through, we finish what we start.
There have been many moments in my painting where I’ve felt stuck, where I am struggling with an element (can I tell you how many times I have had to repaint hands!), when I have wanted to give in.
Mostly, I push through, but a few unfinished canvases are littering the studio, and for a long time, when I saw them out of the corner of my eye, I felt so much guilt.
But after that conversation with Mac, I see them differently.
The Angel I abandoned became the Rogue Angel. By painting her first, she gave me new ideas to try and new techniques.
The Story panel was never meant to be finished. A whispered story that had no middle or end. It’d just needed to be.
And the project that sparked this revelation? A 17-year-old cross-stitch meant for Beans’ nursery.
And there I was pulling out yet another mistake, rows and rows of tiny stitches, because yet again, I hadn’t counted properly, when Mac reminded me.
“You don’t have to finish that?”
It felt revelatory. And that spark has shifted something.
Because I have realised that our time on this earth is finite. And I don’t want to waste it on projects that feel forced. Because it’s ticking off a to-do list. Because it means I am successful and productive.
There is no joy in that.
And one day, I may gesso over those unfinished canvases and start new paintings, their stories becoming part of a new one.
If you feel the pull to let go, to make space for something new, I have a library full of gentle prompts and creative magic.
And when you join the community, you’ll also receive the Soul Whisper class (which invites you to slow down and listen to your intuition), behind-the-scenes peeks and first access to new work.
Join us here.
From my whimsy world to yours.
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