In Pixar's Toy Story 2, Woody's kidnapper, Al McWhiggin (the owner of Al's Toy Barn), calls The Cleaner to repair Woody when the toy's arm falls off.

Al asks The Cleaner: “So, uh, how long is this gonna take?”

The Cleaner replies: “You can't rush art.”

It's true enough—until it's not. At some point, you do have to rush your art. Otherwise, your art sits on its butt on the couch eating chips and salsa.

However many words you write per day, however many rounds of drafts, however many metaphors you think of … at some point you've got to be done. Really done. No going back.

“Art is never finished, only abandoned,” as Leonardo da Vinci said.

* * *

I understand The Cleaner's point of view—that impulse to not rush art. I too am an endless tweaker, editor, tinkerer … The Cleaner of my own work. I'm also an excellent procrastinator and perfectionist.

That's the thing about writing—a thing both frustrating and awesome. You can always polish. You can always correct. You can always think of ways you could make it better, or more elegant, or funnier, or wait I just thought of a new way to intro Chapter 4 …

But here's the only thing that works for me and for others like me, including marketer Doug Kessler, who lent me this mantra: “Deadlines are the WD-40 of writing.”

Meaning: A deadline unsticks what's sticking, because it makes you deliver.

So give a piece a hard curfew. And then strictly enforce it.

Be stern with yourself: Don't allow yourself to kick the deadline further out, or treat it as a mere suggestion, or pretend to forget about it entirely. (You might pretend, but you know the truth in your heart.)

Do the best work you can by the deadline you've set. And then consider your project finished, and let it go with love.