On completing difficult things
Some projects must be dragged across the finish line.
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Today, I submitted a paper called The Limits of Law and AI to 79 law journals. It doesn't feel like a masterpiece, but it is done, and sometimes “done” has to be good enough; some projects just need to be gotten off one’s desk and out the door.
The paper is the result of eighteen months or so of research about artificial intelligence and its applications in the legal profession.
Most writers struggle with perfectionism, and I am no exception. Writers commonly fear that they don’t know enough about a subject to write about it, that a project doesn’t really matter, that what they've written about is uninteresting, or that a piece isn’t up to par for one reason or another. Such negative thoughts can prevent us from picking up the pen in the first place, or from finally putting the pen down and sending a piece out for publication.
In the case of my law-and-AI paper, I experienced a bit of impostor syndrome because I lack the mathematical background to understand how machine learning and neural network tools work in a technically in-depth way. I understand them pretty well, but not in the same way a computer scientist working in the field understands them. This is a very different feeling than the feeling of expertise I have about certain legal issues or matters of writing style. My AI expertise, such as it is, feels shallow by comparison. Some aspects of that subject will always be beyond my intellectual capabilities.
Of course, one need not fully understand the inner mathematical workings of neural networks in order to write about them or form an intelligent opinion about them. So I was eventually able to complete my paper, which includes a nontechnical explanation of how neural networks and other machine-learning technologies work. But I had to drag the paper across the finish line.
At times, writing it felt like writing my M.A. thesis in 2008, an experience I described in my memoir manuscript Timeblind as follows:
Every day, I would show up at the international relations building and take out my laptop. Before starting to type, I would comb the political blogs for polls and news about the 2008 election—I believed to a certainty that Barack Obama would win and wanted to confirm that belief again and again. Then I would pick up a copy of the New York Times and skim the whole thing.
Finally I would force myself to start the day’s work. I tried to hammer the thesis into existence, dragging it from my mind sentence by reluctant sentence, berating myself constantly for the resistance and restlessness I felt.
I sometimes feel a paralyzing aversion to tasks that feel overwhelming and unmanageable. I can force myself to do them, but I put them off as long as possible, and even the smallest step toward completing them requires the brute force of willpower rooted in extrinsic motivations such as the threat of public failure.
Tasks that begin as adventures can take on a cloud of negativity. The more times we sit down intending to work on a project and then turn away from it, walking away after a few hours having made no progress and produced nothing but feelings of guilt and self-doubt, the more unpleasant the task becomes and the harder it is to begin next time.
By pausing to recognize how difficult this particular project has been for me, I can give myself permission to feel good about getting it off my desk and into the publication market. Sometimes, finishing itself is the accomplishment.
For those who do not know me, I am an attorney and educator in Los Angeles who is committed to lifelong learning and growth. If you’d like to receive my new posts by email, please click the button below to subscribe. Subscriptions are free unless you choose to pay: