When Is a Story Truly Done?

Five years ago, when I sat down to write a short story, it was a different experience entirely. Back then, my main concern was the plot: What was the neat science idea? What was the twist? Once I had delivered a clean arc with a beginning, middle, and end, I called it finished. A quick polish for spelling and grammar, and I moved on.

Now? Not so simple.

These days, writing a story feels more painful. More protracted. Not because I’ve lost the thread—but because I’ve found more of it. I’m no longer only interested in the cleverness of the plot. Now I’m chasing emotional resonance. Character arcs. The ways people break, grow, or contradict themselves. I want my characters to breathe.

And I’ve realized something difficult: no story is perfect. Not even close.

Show a draft to ten different beta readers and you’ll get ten different takes on what’s working, what’s broken, and what could be better. Sure, there might be some overlap, but rarely consensus. You shouldn’t expect it, either. By the time you reach a late draft, you’ve already made a thousand choices. What to emphasize. What to leave just off-stage. Which subplot is a whisper and which one takes the mic.

So when is it done? How do you know?

1. Recognize the “Cost of Change” Curve

Every revision has a cost—of time, clarity, emotional energy, or theme. Early drafts are cheap to change. Later drafts? Not so much. You can shift one thing and find the entire architecture of the story tilting sideways. When edits start to feel like trade-offs instead of upgrades, you’re likely nearing the finish line.

Ask yourself: Is this change making the story better, or just different?

2. Define Your North Star

What is this story about, really? Not the plot, not the genre, not even the characters—but the beating heart of it. If you know that, you can weigh every change against it. Will this note enhance or dilute the emotional core? The story might still be imperfect, but if it’s true to its intent, that may be enough.

3. Accept Subjectivity

Not all readers are your readers. Some will want more magic. Some less. Some will ask for a different protagonist. Others will want the side character to take center stage. If you try to please everyone, you’ll lose the story’s spine. Accept that you’ve made deliberate choices—and you can’t write all the stories this could have been.

4. Let It Rest, Then Return

Sometimes you just need space. Step away for a few days—or weeks. Then read it like a stranger. If the story still makes you feel something, if you still hear the echo of what you meant to say, you’re probably closer than you think.

5. Set a Deadline

Whether it’s a contest, a submission call, or a personal goal, pick a date and commit. At a certain point, the difference between 90% and 95% “done” won’t matter if no one ever sees it. Stories become real in the telling, not in endless revision.

6. Have a Version You Can Live With

There’s no “perfect” version. But there is a version you can live with. One that’s flawed, maybe, but meaningful. One that tells the truth—even if it’s a messy one. That’s the version you send out. That’s the one you put your name on.

---

In the end, the sense that a story is never done is a sign of how much you care. You’ve grown as a writer. You see more. Feel more. And with that growth comes an infinite array of choices.

But you can’t mold a story forever. Eventually, you have to let it stand. Maybe wobbly, maybe proud. But finished.

At least… until the next one.

How do you decide you are done? Any other tips or tricks to share? As always, thoughts and feedback welcome in the comments below!