When You Eliminate The Impossible Whatever Remains Novels & Stories

That phrase—'it always seems impossible until it’s done'—has this tiny, stubborn magic to it. For me it’s not a neat motivational poster line but more like a weather report you consult before leaving the house: it explains why your stomach flips at the start of a big thing and why, later, you shrug and say, “Oh, that wasn’t so bad.” I used to feel paralysed by big projects—writing a long fanfic, learning a new programming tool, or even trying to clear my overflowing bookshelf. At the start everything looks like a mountain: foggy, steep, and full of unknowns.

What I’ve learned is that the ‘impossible’ tag is often just a mix of fear, ignorance, and scale. If you cut the mountain into switchbacks—tiny, repeatable steps—it stops being an abstract monster and becomes a series of doable moves. In my case, finishing a long piece of writing became much less mystical once I set a 200-word daily goal rather than aiming for an entire chapter in one sitting. The first small wins rewire your brain: doubt recedes and competence grows.

There’s also the social part: when you see others finish things you thought impossible—like someone beating 'Dark Souls' or publishing a debut novel—you get valuable, practical clues about the path. So to me the phrase means two things: first, perceived impossibility is mostly in the lead-up, not at the finish line; and second, starting small and learning from others turns that impossibility into a sequence of ordinary, solvable problems. It’s comforting and a little thrilling, honestly—every ‘impossible’ is just a project waiting for its first move.