We've all heard it a million times. It's the mantra of productivity gurus, the battle cry of startup founders, and the gentle nudge from a mentor when we're stuck in the weeds. I'm talking, of course, about the classic phrase: "Finished is better than perfect."
On the surface, it’s fantastic advice. It’s a weapon against the crippling disease of perfectionism, the force that keeps our brilliant ideas locked away in notebooks and our hard drives cluttered with half-finished projects. It gives us permission to be human, to create something flawed, and to move on.
But lately, I've been wondering if we've taken it too far. Has this well-intentioned platitude become an excuse for mediocrity? Are we shipping things that aren't just imperfect, but are actually… bad?
I wanted to start a discussion about this and break down both sides of the coin, because I honestly believe there’s a dangerous trap hidden in this advice.
The Case FOR "Finished is Better Than Perfect"
Let's start with the good, because there's a lot of it. This advice exists for a reason, and it can be a genuine project-saver.
1. It's the Ultimate Cure for "Perfectionism Paralysis."
You know the feeling. You have a great idea for a novel, a piece of software, a song, a painting. You start with incredible passion, but then the inner critic pipes up. "That sentence is clunky." "This line of code isn't efficient enough." "That brushstroke is all wrong." Soon, the fear of not creating a masterpiece stops you from creating anything at all. Your project ends up in the graveyard of abandoned ideas, not because it was bad, but because you were terrified it wouldn't be perfect. "Finished is better than perfect" is the sledgehammer that shatters that paralysis. It lets you get that "shitty first draft" down on paper so you have something, anything, to work with.
2. You Can't Iterate on Nothing.
No great creation springs forth fully formed. Think about it: software gets version 1.0, then 1.1, then 2.0. Authors write a first draft, then a second, then it goes to an editor. A "finished" product isn't the end of the road; it's the start of the journey of refinement. You cannot improve something that doesn't exist. By getting to a "finished" state, you create a tangible thing that can be analyzed, critiqued, and improved upon. Your flawed, finished project is infinitely more valuable than a perfect, non-existent one.
3. It Unlocks Real-World Feedback.
You can polish a project in a vacuum for years, convinced you're making it better. But the most valuable insights come when you finally release it into the wild. That bug you never would have caught on your own? A user will find it in five minutes. That plot hole you were blind to? A reader will point it out immediately. Getting your work in front of people, even when it's not "perfect," provides a flood of feedback that is impossible to replicate on your own. This feedback loop is the fastest way to grow and improve.
The Dark Side: When "Finished" Becomes an Excuse
This is where my skepticism kicks in. In our rush to just "ship it," I think we sometimes forget the other side of the equation.
1. It Can Sanction Sloppiness.
There's a fine line between overcoming perfectionism and just being lazy. When does "imperfect" cross the line into "unprofessional" or "unusable"? We see this all the time in the tech and gaming industries. Products are released in a buggy, barely-functional state with the promise of "day-one patches" and future fixes. This "release now, fix later" mentality, often justified by the "finished is better than perfect" mantra, can disrespect the customer and lead to a culture of mediocrity.
2. It Can Permanently Damage Your Reputation.
You only get one chance to make a first impression. If you release a book riddled with typos, a song with poor mixing, or an app that constantly crashes, that's what people will remember. They won't think, "Oh, this is an admirable attempt at overcoming perfectionism!" They'll think, "This person's work is low-quality." Sometimes, taking that extra time to polish your work isn't a sign of paralysis; it's a sign of professionalism and respect for your audience. A slightly delayed, high-quality release is almost always better than a rushed, shoddy one.
3. It Robs You of the Joy of Craftsmanship.
There is a deep, intrinsic satisfaction that comes from pushing your skills to the limit—from truly dedicating yourself to your craft. It’s about more than just the final product; it’s about the process. The "just get it done" mindset can sometimes feel hollow, turning a creative passion into a joyless task on a to-do list. The pursuit of excellence, even if you never fully achieve "perfect," is what helps us grow and find meaning in our work.
Finding the Balance: The "Pragmatic Perfectionist"
So, what's the answer? Like most things, it’s not black and white. The key is context and intention. I’ve started thinking about it in a few ways:
- MVP vs. MLP: In the startup world, they talk about a "Minimum Viable Product" (MVP)—the most basic version of a product you can release. I prefer the idea of a "Minimum Lovable Product" (MLP). It doesn't have to be perfect or feature-complete, but the core experience has to be solid, polished, and enjoyable. It has to be good enough that people love it and are willing to forgive its imperfections.
- Create a "Perfectionism Budget": Not all elements of a project are created equal. Identify the 1-3 core things that absolutely must be excellent. For a writer, it might be the plot and main character development. For a developer, it's the core functionality and stability. Spend your "perfectionism budget" on those, and be willing to accept "good enough" for the rest.
- Know Your Goal: Are you creating this project to learn a new skill? Then by all means, "finished" is your primary goal. Fail fast, learn, and move on. But if you're building a professional portfolio or a commercial product, the standard for "finished" has to be much, much higher.
This advice is a tool, not a universal truth. It's a ladder to help you climb out of the pit of inaction, but once you're out, you shouldn't just stand there—you should start building something sturdy.
So, I'll turn it over to you all. Where do you land on this? Are you a "ship it" pragmatist or a "polish it forever" perfectionist?
Better yet, share a story about a time this advice either saved your project or led you to release something you later regretted. I'm really curious to hear your experiences.
