I'm Killing My Projects

Momentum sometimes needs a hard break

I can feel myself losing interest in Substack.

The spark that had me pushing my sacred 10PM bedtime so that I’d have more time to edit, the spark that had me excited to scroll through notes and reply to everyone? It’s fading.

It’s not boredom, more like… loose disinterest that slides into dread.

Unfortunately I recognize this feeling, because it’s happened before.

I wrote in my first post, Momentum Over Maps: “When I file all my ideas away for later, I feel slow. Burned out. When I follow the sparks, my brain wakes up.”

What I didn’t write about is what happens when the sparks run out.

---

What I love most is making something out of nothing. The first version, watching it all come together. If it's duct-taped a little, I don't mind.

Once it works, my excitement wanes. Often I force myself to continue - at work I quote Don Draper to myself - “that’s what the money’s for!”

But my side projects don't have a paycheck holding me hostage.

I have five apps because starting is more fun than tending.

---

All that said, there seems to be one project I haven’t burned out on.

My vegetable garden.

I’ve been gardening for five years now, and every single spring I come back. I have to force myself out the door into cold March weather, but once I’m there, I’m home.

Why does gardening get to keep the spark when nothing else does?

I think it’s because the garden has something none of my other projects have: total death.

Spring comes whether I’m ready or not. I can’t garden in winter. If I didn’t plant my peas this week, I’ve messed up my one chance this year.

And then, by September, the magic fades. I’m so over it - the carrying the water can around, the worrying if my trellis will fall over with the weight of vines, the spraying and hoping to kill powdery mildew.

But I don’t have to push through or feel guilty about it, because winter comes and kills everything. The beds are empty. It’s over.

By March, absence has made the heart grow fonder. It takes a little push to start, but it feels like a reunion with something I love, not a chore I’ve been avoiding.

Creation is back, because the previous thing died.

All my other projects just sit there, in a permanent post-harvest state, alive but not exciting, competing with the draw of bringing a new idea to life

---

I’ve been telling myself this isn’t a personality flaw.

Austin Kleon says every creative project ends with the same question: "Well, now what?" The people who survive it aren't more disciplined; they have routines that carry them through the gap.

Sounds like my routine should be killing things.

Not “killing my darlings” and sunsetting apps.

I mean declaring the original idea done, so my brain sees an open field instead of an obligation.

Iteration is improving the thing that exists. That’s polishing. That’s the low hum of guilt in the background.

Resurrection is asking: if this didn’t exist and I wanted to solve this problem today, knowing everything I know now, what would I build?

Every spring my garden gets better because the previous year taught me something. Year one I was growing tomatoes in pots on the side of my house. Year five I have raised beds in the sunniest spot in the yard, a composting system that turns my toddler’s rejected dinners into ten-foot tomato plants, knowledge about squash-borer resistant zucchini.

Same bed. Same dirt. New season, but informed by the past.

---

I’ve been staring at Party Studio (the app I built for print at home matching party stuff) thinking that I’m not thrilled with it, maybe it needs more features, maybe it just needs more polish?

That’s iteration. And I keep choosing a fresh idea over iterating through the muck.

But when I ask myself, “if I wanted to solve the party problem today, from scratch, what would I build?” the answer is different.

I’d cover the whole creative experience around identifying a theme, from puns, menus, decorations, signage, the vibe. A full rewrite, using everything I’ve learned.

And now it feels like creation again!

I woke up this morning full of ideas for the app, instead of looking at it with distaste.

---

I think the framework looks like this:

• Acknowledge the harvest is done. Built the thing. It works. Name that. Stop treating it like an ongoing obligation.

• Kill the goal. Not the project, but the original idea. It’s reached. Let your brain release it.

• Ask the resurrection question. If this didn’t exist and you wanted to solve this problem today, knowing everything you know now, what would you build?

• Set a new vision. Same dirt, new season, new lessons learned. The creation is new.

---

This post started because I felt myself losing interest in Substack. The spark was fading. I assumed it meant writing isn’t for me, or more likely I was just so overwhelmed by comparing myself to others that performing online isn’t something I should force myself to do.

It’s clear to me that the spark will always fade. The problem is that I need to work in seasons - kill it off, and create anew.

I said momentum over maps, and I still believe that.

But I’m adding something: momentum sometimes needs a hard break.

---

Do you have a project just sitting there, staring at you, guilting you into paying attention to something you can barely stand to look at?

What would happen if you killed it and started from scratch?