Finishing the hat

How should we mark the end of a project?

Mar 13, 2025

I don’t know about you, but as a freelance person I often find completing projects a bit of an anti-climax. There’s usually such a rush to start the next thing, or to go and earn money, that there’s no time to acknowledge that you’ve completed the challenging project that you set out to do, or to feel pleased or proud about it.

Recently myself and fellow writer-performer Lucy Trodd filmed a proof of concept for our new sitcom, which was a big, exciting, nerve-wracking thing to do. We did it all ourselves, calling in lots of favours, on the stringiest of shoestring budgets. The team were great and our director was very much on the same page as us throughout the process, which was a reassuring feeling. It’s not always the case. There have been occasions when we’ve had to compromise humour-wise, or been messed around by gatekeepers. All of which is very much par for the course, and anyway it’s a miracle to get anything made these days isn’t it? So to be able to make our show with a nice team, all of whom understood the comedic tone, felt very fortunate. The older I get, the more I care about the kindness of people who I choose to work with. I realise that sounds drippy, but I honestly do think life is too short to work with arseholes, and I’m delighted to have got to the stage where it’s now GOOD EGGS ONLY within the work I make myself. I’m looking forward to sharing our sitcom with you...I think it’s the thing we’ve made that is the closest representation of our type of comedy.

Immediately after the shoot day, I had to prepare my solo WIP show. I felt “dready,” as my friend Jennie would say. I was trying out a new character, I’d made new sound cues, a whole new structure to remember, and I’d added a bit at the top where I talk as myself, which felt slightly exposing. I actually really like talking to audiences as myself, but it’s not an area I have huge experience in, so it still feels unnerving beforehand. My director was away so I worked on this iteration of the show by myself which was quite lonely. But as my wise nephew said “at least you have creative control” and he was right about that. As soon as I got on stage, I had a great time. I absolutely love audiences. Teaching improv has helped with this. When I started teaching ten years ago I tried to come across as super professional and in control at all times, which may have made my approach a bit presentational. Nowadays I’m much more myself in class. So much so, that every now and again I’ll realise I’ve said something weird like “Could you play this character like a marshmallow who is having an existential crises?” Or I’ll be mid-way through explaining an exercise and do an accidental dance move, because I feel so at home. The jury’s out as to how that comes across (lol) but anyway being myself in front of people has definitely helped me with the standup-adjacent part of my show.

woman dressed as a panda sits on a stool and looks grumpy — Panda reminiscing about the 90’s from my solo show. Pic by Damian Robertson.

The day after my solo show, I set off on a library tour of These Folk, the improvised folk musical I do. It went really well but it was overwhelming doing one big thing after another. I sometimes wonder if not having any processing time from one project to the next, does weird things to your nervous system. There’s a lot of adrenalin that comes with making a show. Sometimes the preparation has been months in advance and requires you to have multiple roles; producer, performer, art department, writer, marketing assistant, social media expert, PR manager etc. After it’s completed you basically stand there holding your soul in your hand desperately shouting -

“Can anyone see this thing I made?? I hope you can see this thing I’ve made! If you see it, I hope you like it!! And if you like it FEEL FREE TO SAY SO PUBLICLY!!!!!”

I love Stephen Sondheim’s song Finishing The Hat (from Sunday in the Park with George), on the the creative process. Some people say this song is about George (the titular character) being a dick to his partner because: art. But it is really about the process of making art, about how obsessed you can get with a project, how it takes over until you’ve made it as perfect as it can be, and how the rest of the world fades away into the background until it’s finished. My favourite lyric is “Look I made a hat, where there never was a hat.” I love this line. George isn’t claiming he’s made something amazing, he’s simply saying “I made a thing. There wasn’t a thing and now there is a thing.” When you finish a project there is no denying that simple truth, no matter how much of a perfectionist you are. And I very much am one.
(what an imperfect sentence that was).

So how best to mark the end of a project? After the project is finished - what then?
In my experience you just finish the hat and immediately chuck it on the floor and run out of the door to make the next hat. And there are so many God-damn hats! My cupboard doesn’t shut properly because they’re all spilling out. I should really put the finished ones on display but I don’t, because there’s no time and there’s always some imperfection I notice retrospectively which makes me too embarrassed to put them out there. And yet, maybe I should? Maybe we all should take a moment to acknowledge that we’ve made a thing, to feel happy and proud and catch our breath before moving on.

Susan’s Substack

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