Shiny Object Syndrome: Or, Why Your Best Idea Isn’t the Next One

I love ideas and I am a polymath (I love lots of diverse topics)

I love the moment an idea lands — clean, electric, full of promise. The moment when everything feels possible again. The moment when you think, This is it. This is the one that changes everything.

I’ve also lived long enough to know that moment is both a gift… and a trap.

If you’ve ever found yourself abandoning a perfectly good project because a newer, shinier one winked at you from across the room, you’re in good company.

Welcome to Shiny Object Syndrome.

Pull up a chair.

We’ve all been here.

This isn’t a character flaw. It’s not a lack of discipline or intelligence. In fact, it tends to happen to people who are curious, capable, and creative. People who can see possibilities quickly. People who can start things with enthusiasm.

The trouble begins after the honeymoon phase.

The Seduction of the New

New ideas are intoxicating because they ask very little of us at first. They don’t require consistency, follow-through, or patience. They don’t reveal their complications right away. They arrive clean, hopeful, and unblemished by reality.

Existing projects, on the other hand, eventually ask for uncomfortable things:

Focus.

Decisions.

Revisions.

Completion.

And that’s usually when the shiny object appears.

It often shows up right on schedule — when the current project stops being fun and starts being real. When progress slows. When doubts creep in. When the work asks you to choose instead of dream.

The shiny object offers relief.

It whispers, You’re not stuck. You’re just on the wrong idea.

Sometimes that’s true. More often, it’s just easier.

What Shiny Object Syndrome Is Really About

Here’s the part that took me years to learn:

Shiny Object Syndrome isn’t about distraction. It’s about discomfort.

We reach for new ideas to avoid the emotional, messy middle of a project — the unglamorous stretch where momentum wobbles and confidence dips. The part where no one sees, no one is applauding yet. The part where it’s easier to question the idea than to stay with it.

That messy middle is where most meaningful things are built. It’s also where most projects are abandoned.

I’ve left good work behind in that exact moment. Work that could have become something substantial if I’d known how to stay with it instead of restarting again from scratch.

The scars come from realizing, much later, that starting over isn’t the same as moving forward.

The Hidden Cost of Constant Starting (and restarting)

On the surface, chasing new ideas can look productive. You’re busy. You’re learning. You’re “exploring options.”

Underneath, though, there’s often a quiet erosion of trust — with yourself.

Every time you walk away from a project midstream, a small part of you takes note. Not in a dramatic way. Just enough to make the next commitment feel heavier. Just enough to introduce doubt where confidence used to live.

Over time, this can turn into a vague sense of being capable… but unproven. Talented… but unfinished.

That’s not because you lack ability. It’s because completion has become optional.

A Different Relationship with Ideas

The solution isn’t to stop having ideas. Please don’t do that. The world needs people who see possibilities.

The shift is learning how to hold ideas differently.

Not every idea deserves immediate action. Some deserve to be parked, recorded, and left alone until the current project is complete. Others deserve a short trial instead of a full commitment. A few — rarely — deserve a clean pivot.

The seasoned move is discernment, not suppression.

One question I now ask before switching tracks:

Am I moving toward completion… or away from discomfort?

That question alone has saved me hours, days, weeks.

Staying with the Work

Finishing a project doesn’t require obsession or hustle. It requires containment. A clear time frame. A defined finish line. Fewer decisions, not more.

It also requires accepting that the version you finish will never match the version you imagined at the beginning. That’s not failure. That’s reality.

Completion isn’t about perfection. It’s about integrity. It’s about honoring the effort you’ve already invested and allowing something to exist in the world — rough edges and all.

Ironically, finished projects create more freedom than endless options ever do.

A Quiet Reframe

Here’s the reframe I wish I’d learned sooner:

You don’t need a better idea.

You need a kinder relationship with the middle.

The messy middle is where skill develops.

The messy middle is where clarity sharpens.

The messy middle is where momentum becomes self-sustaining.

Shiny objects will always appear. That doesn’t mean you need to follow them.

Sometimes the most powerful move is to nod politely, write the idea down, and return to the work already in your hands.

Because the real magic isn’t in starting again.

It’s in finishing — once.

Getting it DONE.