The Art of Starting Everything and Finishing Nothing

ADHD and Shiny Object Syndrome

A couple of years ago, I decided I was going to learn woodworking, I don't even remember why but it wasn't in a casual, “it might be nice to make a cutting board” way, it was a deep, obsessive, life-altering way that led me to consume every woodworking video on YouTube.

I researched chisels, and sharpening them. I browsed planers and table saws. I became an expert on which clamps were best and found they're like Pokémon (Gotta catch em all!).

To my surprise, I followed through. I built real, tangible, wooden things. A workshop completely from free pallets, a bikeshed, tables, shelves, gifts. But like every grand ADHD hyperfixation, there was a honeymoon period, followed by an inevitable decline as my passion for woodwork was replaced by a passion for being active, running, walking, cycling etc. Now my beloved tools are gathering dust, my once carefully arranged workshop is basically a messy storage unit, and my gloriously unnecessary large collection of clamps, sit there unused, if they were Pokemon, they would have died of neglect.

This, in a nutshell, is Shiny Object Syndrome. And I know I’m not alone in experiencing it.

Definition

"Shiny Object Syndrome is the irresistible urge to chase new ideas, projects or hobbies, convinced that they are what you currently need."

That's my definition, not a scientifically derived one, it's not a medically diagnosable condition but something we all may have encountered in our lives. I feel I could be patient zero, constantly pulled toward new things as long as I can remember, convinced each one could be my defining passion.

At the heart of it lies curiosity, I think that's a feature of life, not a bug. The key is learning to separate a genuine interest from a cunningly disguised distraction.

The ADHD Lifecycle of Interests

For those unfamiliar, here’s how the ADHD passion cycle works:

Step 1: The Revelation – This is it. This is the thing. The hobby, the career, the project that will define me. I can love this forever!

Step 2: The Deep Dive – Research mode activated. You consume every Youtube tutorial, every article, every niche subreddit about your new obsession.

Step 3: The Investment – You buy all the necessary equipment. How will I ever master calligraphy without an array of fountain pens and parchment scrolls?

Step 4: The Initial High – You actually start. You build the thing, you paint the thing, you write the thing. You’re unstoppable. Life is amazing!

Step 5: The Fade – A new, shinier thing has appeared. The old passion gets abandoned like a New Year’s resolution in February.

Step 6: The Shame (Optional) – Why do I keep doing this?

Now, normally at this point, I’d offer some kind of solution: There is no solution. There’s only acceptance.

The Absurd Interruption

Eighteenth-Century Competitive Goose Pulling was a real sport. In the Netherlands and parts of Germany, people would hang a live goose from a wooden frame, grease its neck, and ride past on horseback, trying to rip the poor thing’s head off. The person who succeeded was the champion.

Why am I telling you this?

Because this is what ADHD feels like. Both the interruption and the example.
You're galloping forward at full speed, hand outstretched, desperate to grab onto something meaningful, only to realise that the thing you're chasing is actually quite ridiculous, slipping out of reach, and that you probably shouldn’t have started in the first place.

Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

This Isn’t Actually a Problem

People talk about Shiny Object Syndrome like it’s a flaw, like it’s some kind of self-sabotage. If you were to read other posts about it you might note that the authors will shorten it to an acronym, but that also gives the impression that it’s something you need saving from. (SOS = Save Our Souls)

I’d argue that it’s one of our greatest strengths, it’s not something we need saving from.

• I abandoned woodworking as my primary passion, but I did learn things and made actual, physical objects. I've got all the gear now and I still use it on occasion. I might have a real problem getting paid for the things that people ask me to build, but that's another story.

• I never became fluent in Latin, but I can drop “Per aspera ad astra” into a conversation and sound clever. This Substack was nearly called "Per Aspera Ad Melora" or Through hardship to better things.

• My attempt at learning to juggle ended in disaster, well not disaster but lots of bruised fruit that I didn't eat. For two weeks, I enjoyed something new and was exhilarated by my early progress. If you want to learn to juggle, start with balls, not pineapples.

Every interest, no matter how fleeting, adds something to our lives.
ADHD might make us drop hobbies like hot potatoes, but it also makes us relentlessly curious.

We’re explorers.
We’re experience collectors.
We see something that intrigues us, and instead of wondering “What if?”, we dive in headfirst.

We don’t always stick with things, but when we do, it’s worth it.

The IKEA Meatball Incident

Last week, I decided I wanted to recreate IKEA-style Swedish meatballs. Not just “make a nice meal” but full-blown, authentic, from scratch meatball artistry.

I researched the recipe, learned how to prepare the meat properly (It's a mixture of beef and pork), watched videos on getting the perfect sauce consistency, I had big plans for my big pans. I even picked an audiobook to listen to while I slaved away in the kitchen. I was going to kick the kids out and have some me time in the kitchen before family time.

Then I got to the supermarket. List in hand, basket filling up, and suddenly… I lost the spark. I bought pizzas.

Did I feel like I “failed” at my grand meatball adventure? A little. But stood in the supermarket I had turned initial excitement into an obligation and then saw an opportunity to use a shortcut and still obtain a similar result.

Final Thoughts (Before I Move On to the Next Post)

My workshop is filled with half-finished projects. My bookshelf has an unsettling number of books I’m definitely going to finish. My drafts folder has nearly 100 articles and post's I have braindumped thoughts into, maybe I'll finish them one day.

This very post languished in draftland for months, it was one of the first things I wrote about, the structure has changed almost completely but it's the same idea.
And yes, my YouTube history suggests rather a lot about rather a lot. The Youtube algorithm does a really good job of showing me things I think I want to see, tempting me with new interest sidequests.

If I could choose to not chase the shiny objects, I'm not sure what I’d do. To say "I wouldn’t change a thing," might be a lie. I'm terrified that one day I will wake up and find another target for my attention and writing will fall into the same category as everything else mentioned in this post. But so far, it's still a passion for me.

If the next thing does come along and replace my interest in writing at least I will still be doing something, because while some people sit around thinking about what they might like to do, I'm going to be out there actually trying things. And maybe whatever shines brightest next, I can write about.

Is it bad to always be looking for something better? If we're talking about hobbies, no, but wives and husbands... maybe!

If the cost of finding something that makes you happy and gives you purpose is a few abandoned hobbies and a collection of absurdly expensive clamps, then that’s a price I’m happy willing to pay.

What’s your latest hyperfixation? And how long before you abandon it in favour of learning to handcraft artisanal scented candles from earwax harvested from your pets?

When I am working on a specific post and I notice that someone I know has written something similar, I make a note because if you liked my take on Shiny Object Syndrome, you might enjoy

Malick Abdullah

’s take on it, which is quite different and he takes us down some interesting paths.

Check it out over on The Thought Base.

Falling to Shiny Object Syndrome… again