I've never liked finishing things. My childhood was littered with art projects that were 99% complete and schoolbooks whose last chapter never saw the light of day, and countless unfinished stories and emails languish in my computer files and draft folders.
It's a problem, and though I would never blame all of my (many) problems on my ADHD, it's something I've read a lot of people with the condition struggle with - the interesting or challenging part of the task is done, so why bore myself with the little fiddly bits at the end? (In my gradeschool years, I was known to neglect finishing a multi-step math problem because "I figured out the answer, why do I need to prove it?" Yeah, that excuse went over well.)
But as I've realized the only thing I've ever wanted in life is to be a published author, and as I've been working towards that goal, it's become obvious that I need to finish - and edit - my work.
It's boring. It's mind numbing. I can recite entire passages from memory because I've read and rewritten and reread them so many times. I both love and hate every word and character. But I'm not complaining (even if it sounds like it).
I've finished something. Something that isn't awful (and that's coming from someone who is more critical of her own work more than Stadler and Waldorf are of the Muppet Show). And I've gone through every line and scene to make it the best it can be. And yeah, maybe it's a novella-length sci-fi story about a time traveler and the future president on a road trip to prevent a nuclear war, and maybe there aren't many markets for works like that, but it's gotten me to see the endgame in my work. I know I can finish things that aren't just short stories. I'm going to submit it to as many places that will let me, and I'm not going to let my laziness or disinterest be the obstacle I can't overcome.
Tomorrow I can start that awful process of sending my beloved words out to be rejected. For right now, I wrote a book. I finished and polished it. It isn't awful. And that feels really good.