I just returned my second edited review of “I Knew Men” to Newman Springs Publishing for the next go ’round of edits. Thinking this was the final review (it doesn’t have to be), I found myself evaluating every sentence like never before.
It seems I’m on a quest for perfection, but should I be?
Recently, my youngest daughter, Isabelle, called to talk about perfection. She aspires to take her singing career to the next level. Over the past decade, she has recorded songs and put them into cyberspace for others to enjoy. From the very start, she received enthusiastic accolades from everywhere, including people she had never met. It buoyed her to continue, but after a while she stopped posting new songs. I think it’s been a year or two since her last one.
How come her recordings were good enough to post in the beginning, but not now? She has become a perfectionist. And like me, she wonders if the quest for perfection could be holding her back.
THE FREEDOM OF BEING AN AMATEUR
It’s funny how there is freedom in being an amateur. For instance, I love to paint and draw when I’m stressed out. It’s fun to spend an evening experimenting with new ideas that I discover from observing the world around me during the day.
This winter, I have fallen in love with painting snow people. Each one takes on a life of its own and, along with other paintings, I’ve been sending them as greeting cards to let loved ones know I’m thinking of them. No charge, no pressure — free art for the sake of relieving stress and being creative. If I tried to sell them, the idea of making them perfect might undo all the fun of painting, turning my art therapy into yet a new source of stress.
When I started writing “I Knew Men” I never thought of it as becoming a published novel; I simply had a story in me that I was able to get out of my head. If dreams of becoming a published author had been my motivation, I don’t know if I would have reached this point.
JUST DO IT
As I told my daughter, who is realizing that it’s better to take risks and fall down and get back up than waiting for perfection first, sometimes you have to just do it. Maybe someday I’ll look back at “I Knew Men” and think, “whoa, that was really a bush league piece of literature,” but at least I’m doing something with it. My novel isn’t perfect, but it’s a good story, written with a lot of heart.
And in the end, good enough will be perfect.
Review #3 — bring it!
I love this, Susan. Thank you for sharing your conversation with Isabelle. What if we drop the word “enough,” which serves to diminish the word “good?” What if we reshape the word “good” to the word “happy?” Does my work make me happy? Am I happy with this painting? We are, after all, our worst critics. What if we shift the perspective to what makes us happy? If I’ve done a “good” job, I am happy. If I haven’t, I’m not happy, and I continue to refine, rework, or rewrite what I’m doing.
Then, what if what makes us happy is the definition of perfect?
Good enough reminds me of the noise people make when they say, “Meh.”
How was the film? Meh. How was the piece of pie? Meh.
If we’re not happy, we still have work to do. And that is just fine. Focus on being happy with your work, not on being perfect. <3
Spot on, Alicia! Thank you for sharing your wisdom.