The Lost Art of Finishing

Without endings, even the best ideas never turn into anything real

Recently, I came across Craig Wortmann’s framework⁽¹⁾ about what it takes to be great at anything: Knowledge, Skill, and Discipline.
Knowledge is what you know.
Skill is how you apply it.
And discipline is doing it. Especially when you don’t feel like it.

That’s the one that makes the difference. Discipline separates the doers from the talkers. (And I know I’ve said it before. Still working on which side I’m on).

The real test of discipline isn’t how you start.
It’s HOW, or sometimes IF, you finish.

But let’s start with the start.
Not the finish.
Even though a finish is often just another start.

For some, it’s the newness that brings energy, the excitement of a blank page, the promise of what could be.

Starting is always the hard part for me.
I don’t rush into new things, especially the big ones.
Ideas need to haunt me for a while before I move on them.
Maybe that’s why I don’t have many, just the same few that refuse to leave.
The early stage is always slow: uncertain, uneven, and slightly painful.

But once things start moving, I find rhythm.
Momentum builds. Pieces click.
And every step closer to the end makes the effort feel lighter, sharper, more focused.

Finishing, for me, is the reward.
It’s what makes me start things in the first place.
The quiet satisfaction of tying things off, when the work finally holds together and the shape makes sense.
Because finishing is what separates doers from dreamers, builders from talkers.
Everyone starts. Not everyone finishes.

That feeling is addictive, but it’s also fragile.
Because not every finish lands well.
Some end beautifully, others just… end.
You close the laptop, exhale, and know it’s not perfect, but it’s done.
Finishing isn’t about perfection; it’s about release: the moment when, as Steve Jobs said, “real artists ship.”

Modern work rarely gives us that feeling anymore.
We stay in motion, always optimizing, updating, iterating.
Finishing has become optional, like a nice-to-have.
But it’s finishing that gives work meaning.
Because without an ending, there’s no story. Just an endless draft.

Here are a few tricks and habits that may help you actually finish what you start, and, too often, what others leave halfway.

• Start ugly. Progress doesn’t come from perfect plans; it comes from momentum.
• Name the finish line. Even if it moves later, give the work a point to aim for.
• Build small finishes inside big ones. Every closure builds confidence for the next.
• End visibly. Wrap up meetings, projects, or drafts in a way that feels final. Let people, including yourself, see what’s done.

That’s the other thing about finishing: it’s less about stopping and more about freeing up space to start again.
Closure creates the conditions for new things to begin.
It lets your mind breathe, focus, and move forward, instead of staying tangled in what’s unfinished.

And yes, not every finish is glorious.
But every finish is proof you showed up long enough to make something real.
That’s the part worth chasing.

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Further reading:
(1) For more on Wortmann’s framework: Knowledge, Skill, and Discipline: What’s Your Story? Using Stories to Ignite Performance and Be More Successful