Keep to a schedule, show up every day, stay true to yourself, edit ruthlessly. These are the advice aspiring writers will often hear from those who came before. It’s also what I used to parrot to anyone who asked.
But if you were to start a newsletter today and came to me for my best insider tip, I’ll pause for effect… and say only: Nothing’s ever finished.
In three and a half years of sending 161 newsletters, this is the single most impactful lesson I’ve learnt. It is empowering, liberating, comforting, all at once.
It is my creed. And no matter what line of work you’re in, it could be yours too.
The “getting better” conundrum
My first year of Val Thinks, I published dozens of “finished” newsletters. Newsletters I cranked out in an hour, at most two, and thought were perfect. Words shot from my fingers like fireworks, whole sentences arrived fully formed. I was inspired, gifted, a born writer.
In my second year, writing took longer, required more thought. I’d imposed a three-part structure and now had to actually pay attention where before I mostly rambled. I started doing drafts. I cringed at my previous year’s writing. I was garbage, thank God I’m not anymore.
In my third year, writing became impossible. A first draft typically took four hours. Published newsletters underwent four, five, six revisions. Every sentence that survived had had more words removed than added. And for the first time, I was unhappy with my writing.
I still am.
I know I’m a good writer. My day job demands it. My growing list of engaged subscribers proves it. Yet I’m unhappy with every newsletter I publish—no matter how many hours I’ve spent rewriting the same thousand words, how many turns of phrase I’ve conjured out of Saigon’s humid air that were just perfect.
I’m unhappy because the goalpost is always moving, forever out of reach. No matter how good Draft 6 is, Draft 7 is going to be better, then Draft 8, Draft 9, Draft 10, and on and on it goes.
But because I can’t revise a newsletter ad infinitum, I have to call it at Draft 6 and send an inferior piece of writing with my name on it out into the world.
This is a frustrating illustration of the conundrum of getting better at—not just writing—but any endeavour in life:
The more you improve, the more you realise you can *always* be better.
Once you’re no longer blinded by imagined greatness, it becomes impossible to be happy with any progress you’ve made, because you’re now painfully aware progress never ends.
Cue mindset shift, or: the most impactful lesson the past three and a half years taught me.
Nothing’s ever finished
When I began my newsletter writing career, I could never have predicted perfectionism to be its first—and so far only—casualty. I was the consummate perfectionist, “unrivalled” the goal for every pursuit I set my sights on.
Yet, three and a half years in, my perfectionism has died a spectacular, blessed death.
Realising I could never be happy with any newsletter, I stopped aiming for perfection and settled for “good enough.” I began telling myself what is now my creed: Nothing’s ever finished.
Everything—a newsletter, a product, a house—is a work in progress. You give it your all to make it the best that you can, all the while accepting it can never be.
This acceptance empowers and liberates you to try new things and take risks, and comforts you when, afterwards, you find a typo in a newsletter you’d missed, a critical product flaw you hadn’t foreseen, a kitchen window that opens the wrong way.
Perfection is impossible. Nothing’s ever finished. But—and this is important—“good enough” is also not an excuse for mediocrity.
My “good enough” isn’t an hour of writing whatever comes to mind and hitting “Publish,” not anymore. It’s three drafts on Google Doc, the fourth on Substack, then—once the newsletter goes out—a nail-biting five minutes where I read it in my inbox as if I were a subscriber taking it in for the first time. Any imperfections I spot, I make a mental note for the next time I’m writing the next draft of the next newsletter.
On and on it goes, this never-ending cycle of improvement. No newsletter is ever finished, but every newsletter is better than the last.
And that’s just the way things should be.
What do you think?
Or is it?
Can anything ever be finished?
Think back to your latest accomplishment. Did it feel “finished”? What’s your take on my creed? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this post with a friend who’s been talking about starting a newsletter for years and could use a gentle nudge from a benign stranger in the form of this unfinished newsletter.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
p.s. And if you’re a newsletter writer who’s starting out and would like more advice, you know who to email. I respond to everything.
Bonjour Val,
I think i do not read your letters as others readers did because english do not belong to my mother tongue, i am like a stranger here but i am curious like a child and very focused when reading you. I noticed every once in a while your writing is fluid, smooth and other times i have to pay a lot more attention. Obviously you want to make it always better but do not forget that's also about happiness, joy, healing, creativity, freedom, and connection that's do not match with perfection.. I'll be curious if one day you decide to write as you talk it could be a good one..to finish your writing make me think afterwards which is also the main goal and i try to think in english. Let me know if you're searching new topics i can suggest you others.
Whish you a wonderful day !
PS: i have just reread one time my review😉
"Perfection is the enemy of progress" springs to mind!
To answer your question: when it comes to writing, no, I don't think it would ever be finished! Improvements, or at the very least changes, can always be made.