Finishing things has always been difficult for me, just look at my house. Some days I forget to finish shaving.
Maybe that is what attracted me to pottery. I can throw a pot in a matter for a few minutes or even seconds depending on the size. With a bigger piece it is slow motion excitement. Tiny moves can completely change the form. Rarely can an unwanted change be corrected. But when it blooms out of a pull of the wrist or a pinched finger it really is crazy good. But its far from done. There is still shaping, trimming, carving, shaping again, drying a little more each step. Finely painting and glazing. The opening of the kiln. That is great. That is finished. What you see is new, never before, never sure, at least not with me. I know some potters can make the same plate or cup every time, art fairs are full of them, God bless them, that is without a doubt a great skill and proof of their knowledge and command of the craft. I seek the unknown in everything I make. The only times I have tried to copy something I made before was then I was not sure how I did it and was pretty sure I Could not do it again. I have gotten close. Even when the kiln is opened and success is in my hands I am still left looking for a home for my new piece,
Maybe the best feeling of finished is moving house. When the last item is out and the keys handed off. To enter again would end in a call to 911.
The move in has the same quality but in reverse. The last stroke of paint pulling off the masking tape, pushing the couch against the wall and breaking down the empty boxes. The move is finished, Ah. A unknown future ahead in the new home, but finished the move. I guess a published book would have that sense too.