There is a specific kind of dopamine that only exists in the “thinking” stage. It’s that initial spark when you decide you’re going to be a person who does that thing. For me, I’ve found this to be especially true when it comes to hobbies.

I’ve started thinking of it as the “ideal self.” A version of me that reads every night, bakes fresh bread on Sundays, paints like a pro, knits sweaters for my friends, and journals consistently…

The trouble is, you don’t start off with a refined skill. The idea of the hobby provides 90% of the thrill with 0% of the labor. As soon as you actually sit down to start, the hobby becomes either a commitment or another quit project. Some of us have a drawer or two dedicated to these abandoned versions of ourselves. Some of us have destroyed all evidence upon quitting. And some of us actually excel and complete every project we start (I want to be you).

The pattern:

• You spend more time researching the “best” equipment than actually using it. Ex: You have extensive knowledge about which needles to buy, but you’re still stitching at a beginner level.
• You’d rather buy a brand new kit than pick up the project that’s been sitting on your nightstand for three months. A new canvas represents a version of you that hasn’t quit yet.
• You realize you like the idea of being an artist (or a baker, or a knitter) more than you like the actual repetitive labor of being one.

If you’re stuck in the loop of buying the dream and not quite finishing projects, the problem probably isn’t your follow-through, but your scale. Sometimes we buy the “master” version of a hobby before we’ve even started.

If you want to be a reader, read one page. If you want to be a runner, put on your shoes and walk to the end of the block. The goal isn’t immediate excellence, it’s lowering the barrier until it’s impossible to fail.

A friend in my writing group once told me “done is best.” I strongly resisted that at first. Why would I finish something I wasn’t proud of? But in reality, I didn’t become a better writer by writing better pieces. I became one by writing several mediocre ones. And now I’m actually finishing things I used to abandon halfway through. Look mom, my fifth blog post!

Finishing a “meh” project (or blog post) is much better than having the only version exist in your head. Let’s go do something mediocre today. It’s much more fun than waiting for a masterpiece.