How to finish a book when your squirrel brain has other plans

There are several phases to writing a book. There’s the initial attraction, when you’re in love with the idea. As you plan, you know this is the best idea you’ve ever had. This book will rock.

Then there’s the drafting phase, where you sit down and start unfolding the story onto the page. Everything is still bright and shiny. It’s like the first few months of dating—you haven’t made any big mistakes yet. You’re still killing this thing.

Finishing a book, though, is hard. Before you write the actual ending, you probably have to go back and print it all out and revise all the parts that aren’t working. It’s a chore. You’re reading chapter sixteen for the eighty-ninth time and trying to figure out why the pace is off. You’re bored, and you don’t know if it’s you or the book.

You’re at that part of the relationship, basically, when you argue a lot about whose turn it is to unload the dishwasher. And it aint’ pretty.

Simply put, this job is fun. But it’s not always fun. Finishing a book is hard. There’s a lot of anxiety involved. Will this finally be the book that just doesn’t come together? Is it going to end up in the trash? And will your readers like that weird thing you did on page 187? Wait—do you even remember how to use commas correctly? Are those jokes even funny?

It’s no wonder, then, that a writer in the Fear Phase of Book Finishing™ can barely focus. And I am sorry to say that experience makes this worse, not better. I’ve got more to lose than I did before, when nobody was watching. And a busy inbox that always resembles one of Dante’s circles of hell.

Naturally, I’ve tried All The Things people advertise to solve these problems. I’ve tried apps that cut off my access to the internet. I’ve tried Smart Notebooks and dictation and software that tracks what I do with my time.

But, to nobody’s real surprise, gadgets don’t work. Only habits do. Your mileage may vary, but I have a new favorite way to shut out the shiny world and concentrate.

My little trick for getting it done:

Every morning, when I’m drinking my first and only coffee of the day, I open my planner to a page titled “Let’s Go.” And then—in just a line or two—I write down my intentions for the day. It might look like this: “Finish the bus scene and brainstorm the fight scene. Take a walk. Pizza dinner.” Or maybe “Write 1200 words, buy groceries, go to yoga.”

Important distinction: this is not a to-do list! I have one of those, too. It’s longer. It’s boring, but also necessary. That’s where I dump my brain so the bills get paid and the doctor’s appointment gets made, etc. This is different! This is taking a quiet moment to tell myself what the ideal day looks like. It’s making a little promise to myself.

This isn’t a list, and nothing gets checked off. If I fail, that’s okay. Life happens. Maybe it’s not even my fault. Tomorrow’s intention might bear a lot of resemblance to today’s. No big deal. We move on.

Making a promise to myself feels good, though. I’ve got all those other voices in my head already—people who need me, people who love me, readers, etc. Why not give my own voice its moment, too? It’s like a two minute meditation on what I hope to do.

And more often than not, I actually do it.