Why I can't finish my own fucking website

I've been building my website for six months. It's still not live.

You know that feeling when you tell everyone else to just ship it, to stop overthinking, to accept that perfect is the enemy of done... and then you can't follow your own advice? That's where I am. I'm the person who tells other photographers their website doesn't need to be flawless, it just needs to exist. And I know how that sounds when my own site has been sitting in draft mode since July.

Everyone assumes the problem is perfectionism. That I want it too perfect, that my standards are too high, that I just need to lower the bar and get it done. Maybe. But I don't think that's what's actually going on here.

It's not what everyone thinks

Lately I've been thinking about why this is so hard for me, and I think the real problem is this: I'm driven by creativity, not structure. I want to keep evolving. I get bored easily. I'd rather work on my editing style than build a fucking contact form because editing feels like progress. It's creative, it's evolution, it's fun. A website is decisions. Commitment. Choosing one direction and sticking with it. And commitment feels like stagnation.

If I'm constantly evolving, then what I made yesterday is already outdated today, right? If I launch the website now, I won't like it in three months. So why launch it at all?

The loop I'm stuck in

That's the loop I get stuck in. Every decision feels like commitment, and commitment feels like the end of change. So I don't make decisions. I procrastinate by working on things that feel more creative: my presets, my image editing, literally anything except the website. Not because I don't care about the website, but because those other things let me keep moving. The website asks me to stop and choose. And I fucking hate that.

I had a shoot this week. Just an hour, nothing elaborate, but it was one of those sessions that reminded me why I do this. No overthinking, no second-guessing—just showing up and responding to what was in front of me. And then when I sat down to edit, I did something I haven't done in years: I simplified my entire process. Normally I go through Lightroom, then Photoshop for retouching, then Alien Skin Exposure just to add grain. This time? Just Lightroom. That's it. And I'm genuinely happy with how the images turned out.

It hit me while I was editing: that's exactly what I need to do with the website. Stop jumping through five different apps trying to make it perfect. Stop overcomplicating the process. Just simplify and ship it.

What might actually help

I think what might actually help is accepting that I'll never be satisfied. Not as a failure, just as reality. "I'll never be satisfied" doesn't mean "so I'll never finish"—it means "so I can ship now, because it'll change in three months anyway." But that requires giving myself permission to put something online that isn't perfect, to commit even though it's temporary, to say "this is where I am right now, and in three months it'll be different."

That's hard because "it'll change in three months" feels like the work I'm doing now is pointless, like it wasn't good enough. But actually it means I'm evolving, so my work evolves with me. The website won't be wasted work. It'll be a snapshot of where I was in January 2026, and in six months it'll be a snapshot of where I was in June. That's not failure, that's just how it works when you're someone who can't stop changing.

The real tension

The real tension, I think, is that my creative drive has always been stronger than my financial drive. I became a photographer because I wanted to create, not because I wanted to make money. The website would help me move forward financially, but building it requires me to think structurally instead of creatively. And that feels wrong somehow. I could build a website that looks like every other photographer's: clean, simple, done in a week. But I don't want that. Why? I don't fucking know. Maybe because "like everyone else" feels like giving up. Maybe because I need the website to reflect how I actually work, not just what works. Maybe I'm just stubborn. Probably all three.

What I'm committing to

So here's what I'm committing to: the website should go live this month. Maybe it will. Not because it's perfect, not because I'm satisfied with it, not because it won't change. But because I'm accepting that it'll never be perfect, I'll never be fully satisfied, and it will absolutely change. And that has to be fine. The alternative is working on it for another six months and still not launching, and that's definitely not fine.

If you're stuck on something similar, maybe ask yourself: are you waiting for perfection, or are you afraid of committing to something that won't stay the same? Because if it's the second one, the answer isn't "lower your standards"—it's "accept that change is part of the process." Ship it. Let it evolve. Update it when you need to. That's not failure, that's how creative people work.

The website should go live this month. Maybe it will. I'm laughing at myself a little as I write that, but I mean it.

Hugs,
Bjørn

For the hearts still beating—keep creating, keep pushing, keep giving a damn.