Creativity is full of ups, downs, and detours. It’s the thrill of new ideas and the journey of bringing them to life. But what happens when a new idea steals all your attention right in the middle of an ongoing project? Two days ago, I was commissioned to write a play, which, having worked in the theatre for many years, is thrilling and something I've always wanted to do. But now, my novella—a story I’ve nurtured and nearly completed—seems to pale in comparison to the newness of the play project. Logically, I know I should finish the novella before diving into the play, but emotionally? That’s another story. If you’re someone who’s battled “shiny object syndrome,” you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.
Creative minds crave novelty and inspiration, making it hard to resist new projects, especially when they seem to glow with fresh possibility.
Let's explore why we’re so easily tempted—and I'll share the steps I’m taking to focus on my novella without letting the allure of a new project derail my progress.
My Current Dilemma
I’ve poured months of energy, time, and creativity into my novella, and it’s now in its final stages. The story is solid, the characters are real, and I can almost taste the satisfaction of finishing. But then came the play commission—an opportunity to write something completely new. Immediately, my mind went into overdrive, buzzing with ideas for scenes, character arcs, and stage dynamics. Suddenly, I found myself more interested in sketching out the play than resolving the last finishing touches of the novella so it's ready for my book coach, Margaret McNellis (yes, book coaches have book coaches, too!).
The problem is familiar to many creatives. As psychologist and author Scott Barry Kaufman explains, creative people are highly susceptible to what he calls “openness to experience,” a trait that involves curiosity, imagination, and a love of novel ideas. But while this openness fuels our creativity, it can also lead us astray, making it challenging to stay committed to one project when another calls. My dilemma isn’t just about time management—it’s about reconciling that psychological tension between novelty and commitment.
The Appeal of the New
Why does the idea of starting fresh hold so much appeal? The answer, I believe, lies in the psychology of motivation and reward. New projects come with a dopamine rush, that feel-good chemical associated with pleasure and reward. When I think about writing this play, I’m already imagining the excitement of exploring fresh ideas, discovering new themes, and crafting unique characters. There’s a sense of freedom in starting with a blank slate, and that’s hard to resist.
In contrast, the novella—while close to completion—doesn’t have that same dopamine boost. The project is well-developed, the characters and plot are set, and there’s little room left for discovery. The challenge now lies in refining and finalising, which feels more like work than play. This is where the brain’s craving for novelty, known as “neophilia,” comes into play. Humans are wired to seek new experiences, which is why the allure of a new project can be so strong, even when we know that sticking with our current project will ultimately be more rewarding.
Recognising this psychological bias helps me understand why the play feels so enticing and why the novella seems, in comparison, like old news. But understanding it is only the first step—now I need to actively combat it.
Strategies to Stay on Track
To keep my novella on track, I’ve put together a few strategies. These aren’t just productivity tips; they’re psychological hacks to help me channel my focus and avoid the pitfalls of shiny object syndrome.
Set Boundaries for Thinking Time
The moment I catch myself daydreaming about the play, I'm giving myself a specific time limit to jot down ideas—no more than 10-15 minutes a day. During that time, I let myself be as creative and free as I want, writing down scenes, character ideas, and even dialogue. But when the time is up, I close my notes and return to the novella. By setting boundaries, I can indulge my curiosity without letting it derail my progress.
This boundary-setting is a form of self-regulation, a key concept in psychology that helps us control impulses. Studies show that when we practice self-regulation, we’re more likely to achieve long-term goals and resist distractions. So, while it may feel restrictive, setting boundaries for “playtime” actually strengthens my resolve to complete the novella.
Reconnect with the Heart of the Novella
To renew my commitment, I revisited my "blueprint" for the book which lays out the core themes and reasons I started the novella in the first place. I spend time thinking about why I'm writing it and my ideal reader. I think about the characters I’ve developed, the journey they’re on, and the messages woven into the story. Why did I feel this story was important? Why did I want to bring it into the world? By reconnecting with the heart of the novella, I find myself re-inspired by the work I’ve already done.
This strategy taps into the concept of intrinsic motivation—the drive to do something because it’s personally meaningful, rather than for external rewards. Research shows that intrinsic motivation sustains long-term engagement, so by focusing on the “why” behind the novella, I’m grounding myself in the purpose that got me started.
Use the New Project as a Reward
Rather than viewing the play as a distraction, I’ve started to see it as a reward. I'm setting specific milestones for the novella—like finishing a chapter or refining a tricky scene—and once I reach one of those milestones, I allow myself some time to work on the play. This way, the play becomes a treat for staying disciplined, and the novella remains my priority.
Psychologists call this strategy “temptation bundling.” By pairing an enjoyable activity (working on the play) with a necessary one (finishing the novella), I’m creating a reward system that boosts motivation. This approach helps me stay focused while keeping the play as a source of inspiration rather than distraction.
Trust the Process
Lastly, I remind myself that creativity isn’t a race. Each project has its own rhythm and season, and the play will be there when I finish the novella. This patience and trust in the process are key to overcoming shiny object syndrome. Instead of fearing that I’ll lose the excitement for the play, I remind myself that by focusing on the novella now, I’m actually laying the groundwork for a more fulfilling creative experience when I finally do dive into the play.
This final strategy aligns with the concept of delayed gratification. The ability to delay gratification is linked to greater success and satisfaction, both personally and professionally. By trusting that each project will benefit from my full focus when the time is right, I’m practicing the art of delayed gratification—a crucial skill for any long-term creative journey.
Final Thoughts
Managing shiny object syndrome is a challenge that all creatives face at some point. By understanding the psychology behind why new projects are so tempting and using strategies that leverage self-regulation, intrinsic motivation, and delayed gratification, I’m finding ways to stay true to my current work. Writing is as much a test of discipline as it is of inspiration, and by keeping my focus on my novella, I’m honouring the journey I set out on—and setting myself up for a fulfilling experience with the play when the time comes.
What about you? How do you stay focused on one project when another calls your name?