Random Writing Tip #10: Perfection is the Enemy
(Warning: inappropriate unicorns below)
Writers are always striving to write better. (Or at least, the good ones are, and that’s who I’m writing these tips for, so let’s stick with that assumption, okay?)
We take classes, read blog posts, buy numerous books on writing by writers, read at least some of those books, write stuff, cry over feedback, write more stuff, entrust our precious work to editors, write more stuff. We are always chasing that better phrasing, the more fitting word, the image crafted so finely that it shines. We try to pin down a character in ways that will really reach people. We search for ways to twist the knife that will make people ask for more.
In short, we are always, always trying to perfect what it is that we do.
This is absolutely the right thing to do. We will never learn or grow if we aren’t constantly reaching for something better.
But there is no such thing as perfect writing. It is a myth, the unicorn at the end of a rainbow we can’t even see. That unicorn is laughing at us.
Why is it laughing? Because we know our work isn’t perfect. We sit and squint at it, and poke, and prod, change a word here, a phrase there, throw our hands up and switch tense in the whole piece, cut a paragraph out there, add another page in here. We primp and stroke and preen. We tear it up because it’ll never be any good. Our hands hover over the Delete key. We tuck it in a drawer because the next one, that’ll be the one that works. It’ll be right. But this one, this piece right here, it’s not good enough, and it’ll never be good enough. We just need to keep working at it, at our craft, at the next four pieces, until we’re good enough.
The thing is, we’re our own worst critics and the whole notion of ‘good enough’ means, for most of us, ‘perfection’. And like I said, there is no such thing as perfect writing. We’re sitting there, brushing and brushing a Shetland pony in the hopes that it’ll magically turn into a unicorn. In the meantime, the poor pony’s going bald and has probably started to eat our shoes.
Magic. Unicorn. You see where I’m going here.
So should we stop trying? No, we should not. Self-improvement is the lifeblood of good writing. But there’s trying to improve something and there’s going beyond all need and reason.
Because too much editing and rewriting can suck the life out of a piece. In chasing perfection, you can write away all the spark and passion it had when it was fresh and raw. Just like with cooking, at some point you need to stop stirring and poking and adjusting, or you’ll overcook it and then no-one will enjoy it. Or like whittling, paring and paring away at a carving until there’s only a nub of wood left.
More than that, it can stop you ever feeling like you’ve finished something. You miss that feeling of achievement.
This is where it becomes counter-productive. This is where it damages more than helps.
If you’re never submitting because that piece ‘isn’t quite right’? If you never show anyone your work because you’ve just re-written the first paragraph for the fifth time? If you never get to the end because you’ve been working on the first chapter for three months? If you tinker until you hate the sight of a piece? You’re chasing unicorns and you need to stop. Right now. Put that pen down; step away from the keyboard.
Because perfection is the enemy of done. Perfection is the enemy of looking at a piece and thinking ‘I’ve done something great here’ or ‘this is ready to go’. Perfection is the enemy of pressing ‘send’. Perfection is the enemy of saying ‘look at what I did’ and being proud of it.
That unicorn is not your friend. I’m telling you, it’s laughing at you.
Do you want to know a secret? The definition of what’s ‘good enough’ is mutable. It’s a line you can move, completely at your own choice. And if your line is pushed right up against your desirable perfection, then you need to move it.
It’s a learning process. Don’t expect to get it right every time. But learn to recognise when you’re starting to beat the horse because it’s not a unicorn and you’re about to end up with a dead horse no-one wants to play with any more. Learn when it’s time to put the tools down.
Take a deep breath. Accept that there is no such thing as perfection. Be brave. Let your writing grow wings and fly to wherever you aim it to go. Let it go.
Treat every submission or publication as a learning experience. Know that you’ll take what you learn from one into the writing of the next, and that each piece brings you closer to really good writing. Share your journey and your stories, because it’s good to be human and imperfect.
Know that, in that one way at least, you’re like every other writer on the planet, and that’s okay.
Aim high, my friends. Aim higher. But don’t be afraid to pull the trigger.
Francisco says:
I have the opposite problem — once I’ve called a work “finished” I cannot go back to edit it (apart from dealing with obvious typos). If it’s weak I just tell myself to do better in the next work.
I admit that I do some pre-editing and some editing before I call it finished but I get the impression that others do a lot more work than me (and I suspect that my wrting is weaker as a consequence).
September 5th, 2014 at 5:29 pm
Mel says:
I think working out how to get to a ‘good enough’ end result is a personal journey. As a rule of thumb, it’s easy to over-edit and try to polish too much. It’s also hard to see the true flaws if you’re too close to it. It’s usually good practice to do at least a few drafts; the trick is not to do too much. Where the line is is going to depend on your personal process.
I make sure I do about three read-throughs before I post anything on my web serial, and even then I know I don’t catch every error. Those read-throughs cover different levels of redrafting, editing, and proofing (depending on how well the post comes out on first pass). That’s how to get to the level of quality that I’m happy enough with to publish posts (and not be totally terrified every time).
I also personally find it quite freeing when I know it doesn’t have to be perfect on the first pass. But that’s me. Each to their own! 🙂
September 8th, 2014 at 11:25 am