Resisting the Squirrels

Your idea may not be the problem... it could be your inner self-talk

We’ve all been there, four or five chapters into a novel, article, painting, or stuck in the muddy middle when a new idea hits us. Shiny, exciting, irresistible. Suddenly, our current project feels like homework while this new idea feels like a holiday.

In truth, it’s a squirrel.

They show up uninvited, and often mid-project when the going is getting tough. And that drawer of half-finished manuscripts, abandoned essays, and orphaned short stories is the crime scene.

Case in Point: This post. I was happily working away on the chapters of Forging Ties, which I’m currently posting free for subscribers here on Substack, when a random Note of mine here on Substack connected with so many of you I had an idea! But more about that later.

Why We Chase Squirrels

Ideas are the lifeblood of every writer. Something most embrace with open arms. Unfortunately, for some, what happens in our heads when a new one arrives can often stall our momentum.

New ideas are seductive precisely because they’re new. They’re exciting, flawless, and brimming with potential. They haven’t yet demanded the hard work of a second draft, the slog of a middle act, or the brutal self-examination of the editing process. And that allure is hard to resist.

But this isn’t a character flaw or a lack of writing ability. It’s neuroscience. Our brains are wired to seek novelty and avoid effort. A shiny new idea elicits a rush of excitement, whereas the project you’ve been staring at for what feels like a lifetime triggers something closer to dread. Your brain isn’t being creative — it’s taking the path of least resistance.

The result? A graveyard of good but unfinished ideas.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth: the more creative you are, the worse this gets. The ideas don’t slow down just because you’re busy. They multiply. One squirrel becomes three. Three becomes a dozen. Meanwhile, your current project sits there, increasingly unloved and quietly gathering dust.

Meet the Culprits

So whose fingerprints are all over this particular crime scene?

We all have a constant internal dialogue running in the background of our minds, our self-talk. It’s the stream of opinions, warnings, excuses, and encouragement that influences every decision we make, including whether we stay at our desk or chase a shiny squirrel. I call these voices the Inner Imps.

The Inner Imp Hellions tend to hold us back by whispering overly protective, risk-averse comments in our heads that frequently work against our best interests:

“This current project isn’t working.”

“This new idea is so much better.”

“It’ll be better for this current project if I put it aside for a while and come back to it with fresh eyes later.”

I’m pretty sure you’ve all heard variations of these at some point.

Conversely, our Inner Imp Heroes are more inclined to fight for what’s best for us with quieter, steadier, more encouraging murmurings — that are sometimes frustratingly easy to ignore!

“You’ve done hard things before; you can do them again.”

“Just a few more chapters and you’ll be done, then you can pursue that idea.”

Together, the Hellions and Heroes make up Team You. And unfortunately, when it comes to squirrel-chasing, the Hellions have an absolute field day. So, step forward our main crime suspects.

Temptation is the ringleader. Silver-tongued and entirely shameless, he’s the one who spots the shiny new idea first and immediately starts building a compelling case for why this one is different, special and worth dropping everything for. He’s very convincing. He’s also been here before, and you know exactly how that ended.

Procrastination is Temptation’s willing accomplice. He doesn’t actually care about the new idea; he just needs a reason to avoid the current project, and the shiny new idea is the perfect cover. Suddenly, exploring this exciting new concept feels remarkably like work, which makes it very easy to convince yourself you’re being productive when you’re actually running away.

Laziness has done the maths. The current project is hard. It has problems you haven’t solved yet, scenes that aren’t working, and a character that’s just not behaving. The new idea has none of these issues (yet). Laziness knows exactly which one requires less effort right now, and he will absolutely use that information against you.

And then there’s Fear — quieter than the others, but often a root cause. Sometimes we chase the idea not because it’s so compelling, but because finishing the current project means putting it out into the world. And that’s terrifying. A new idea keeps you in the safe zone. Fear knows this and is counting on you not to notice.

The good news is, you also have Inner Imp Heroes in your corner that can help balance out this self-talk… if you know how to call on them.

Judgement is the cool head in the room, and his job is to weigh the evidence. Yes, the new idea is exciting. But is it more important than the project you’ve already invested weeks/months/years (eek!) in? Judgement doesn’t dismiss the squirrel; he gently reminds you to look at it honestly before you go running after it. (He also has a darker side, though, so handle with care).

Honesty backs him up. That new idea that feels so irresistible right now, Honesty will quietly point out that the idea for your current project felt exactly as irresistible before it got difficult. As did the one before that. He’s not being cruel — he’s being useful.

Responsibility is the grown-up of the squad. He’s the one who reminds you that the half-finished manuscript in your drawer isn’t going to finish itself, that readers can’t read a book/article that doesn’t exist yet, and that, ultimately, the buck stops with you.

Perseverance is the one who holds the line when everything in you wants to quit. He’s been here before — at the mid-book slump, the plot hole, the chapter/article that looks like a gourmet meal in your mind but a dog’s dinner on the page — and he knows that the only way out is through.

And finally, Self-Discipline. This guy is nobody’s favourite but universally respected. He’s the one who keeps you ploughing ahead with your current WIP when your self-talk is making a very compelling case for doing literally anything else.

Taming the Squirrels

Knowing which Imps are shouting loudest in your head and driving your behaviour is genuinely useful in taming their waywardness. But knowledge and self-discipline alone don’t always finish projects. Many of us also need our Inner Imp Courage to step up and seek something else…

Accountability

Left to our own devices, it’s remarkably easy to renegotiate our deadlines to make room for a shiny idea or forgive ourselves for another lost afternoon we spent down a rabbit hole fleshing it out. We convince ourselves that tomorrow we’ll definitely crack on.

Accountability shifts this. When someone is waiting for the next chapter, a regular missive from you, or has another expectation, Laziness has a harder time making his case. Temptation’s shiny new idea has to compete with the mild but very real discomfort of letting someone down.

This doesn’t have to be formal. A writing partner, a group, a friend who asks how the book is going — any external witness to your intentions will do. The simple act of saying “I will have this done by Friday” out loud to another human being is surprisingly powerful.

For me, one of the most effective accountability tools has been committing to publishing Forging Ties chapter by chapter here on Substack. There’s nothing quite like a publication date looming and a readership waiting to focus the mind.

If you’re a writer looking for a way to hold yourself to a project, it’s worth considering. The majority of the community here is encouraging at exactly the right moment.

Idea squirrels thrive in isolation but lose much of their power the moment we make a public commitment to something else.

Appeasement: Give the Squirrels a Home

But while accountability might help keep you at your desk, how do you appease all your shiny squirrel ideas?

As I mention in above in ‘case in point’, this article was triggered by a Note I posted here on Substack in May asking whether other writers had the problem of too many ideas. Hundreds of you cried ‘yes ‘ and chimed in with all the wonderfully creative ways you resist your idea squirrels.

Capture it immediately: Hands down the favourite. Notebook, phone, index card, the back of a receipt, spreadsheet, Google Doc, it doesn’t matter, just write it down. This simple act appeases your hellions because they sense the idea is safe. It has a home and no longer needs to shout for attention. As one of my subscribers, Hal Hoelle, aka The Arcitect, commented: a dedicated ‘thought catcher’ notebook means the idea stops renting space in your head so you can get back to the project in front of you.

Let it go: Once captured, practise releasing it deliberately. Anthony Krumm put this beautifully: “I like to have ideas that visit then flit away. If they are meant to be mine, they will come back.” The ideas worth pursuing will do this, while the ones that fade quietly were never really yours to begin with.

Write a short story or flash fiction: Sometimes an idea is too insistent to be parked. If that’s the case, Chester Helms had a great solution, which is to give it the shortest possible home as a short story. You could also go with flash fiction or a new scene in your current WIP. Honour it quickly and cheaply, then return to your main project.

Combine, don’t multiply: Rather than chasing ten separate squirrels, fold them into the project you’re already writing. Riker Rhodes shared his strategy: instead of a hundred separate stories, he builds ten stories, each woven from ten ideas. Aimee Orran Adams called it fusion cuisine. Whatever you call it, it’s a far more efficient use of your creative energy.

Trust the process, not the urgency: Here’s the uncomfortable truth about that irresistible new idea: the excitement you feel right now isn’t evidence that the idea is brilliant. It’s evidence that Temptation and Procrastination may be running rampant. The urgency is an illusion. Your current project also felt exactly this exciting once, right before it became hard work. That feeling will return, but only if you stick with it.

The Rewards

Here’s what your Inner Imp Hellions are hiding from you when they urge you to give in to those squirrels:

Finishing a project feels extraordinary.

It’s not just relief, although there’s plenty of that. It’s the satisfaction of having seen something through from the first excited spark to the last polished word. Of having silenced the critics to actually get there (whether they are external or the Hellions in your head). That feeling is only available on the other side of the slog, and no shiny new idea can give it to you unless, well… you finish it!

Squirrels will always be there. That’s not going to change, and honestly, you wouldn’t want it to because that would mean your ideas fountain had dried up. A mind overflowing with ideas is a gift, even when it sometimes feels more like a curse. The goal isn’t to stop the ideas coming. It’s to stop them from derailing the work you’ve already committed to because the creatives who finish aren’t the ones who stopped having ideas; they’re the ones who learned how to tame the squirrels.

So over to you…

How do you manage your squirrels? Have you found a system that works, or are you currently buried under a pile of half-finished manuscripts or other creative projects wondering why you’re unable to finish?

I’d love to hear from you in the comments. And if this resonated, share it with other creatives you think might need to hear it.

If you’re not already following along with my current serial, Forging Ties, or other scribblings, I’d love it if you’d subscribe because nothing quite focuses my mind like knowing readers are waiting.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a squirrel to ignore and a chapter to finish.

Cat x

A gentle note: If any of your self-talk is affecting your quality of life, please do speak to someone. My articles on encouraging you to understand your self-talk are a useful tool, not a substitute for professional support.