There's a term in TV Tropes called "Moving the Goalposts," which means that anytime you think your close to accomplishing a goal, someone comes along and pushes that goal further back. Like, for example, you commit to writing 50,000 words by the end of April. You finish on April 21, so your boss comes along and moves up that goal to 65,000 words.
Except that in this case the boss is myself.
It becomes demoralizing quickly. I say I'll get something done, and I do it. But I didn't get it done enough. I didn't do it good enough. Keep working. Start over.
More insidiously, this actually works as a procrastination technique. If I'm forever fussing over my writing, I'm not looking at less savory things, like looking for working, researching self-publishing, doing chores, or even talking to friends.
This week, however, I started to break that habit. I clearly defined what I would do this week. Then I did it. I decided not to mourn what didn't get done. I felt good about myself. That good feeling actually made me want to be more productive. As I result, I got a good deal accomplished this week, including researching self-publishing, researching credentialing, signing my contract for Daily Science Fiction, getting critiques donew, working two sub jobs, and walking the dogs four times this week.
Currently at 60,000 words.
It's fun to run past the goalposts.