Even this, even now, I can't write. There is this blockage to everything I once knew how to do. Because suddenly, one day, I came down with a plague - Perfection. And if it's not perfect, then I'm terrible at it. If a single sentence is extraneous, if something doesn't sound right, if the writing is only okay, if it needs to be edited still further and further and further and further and further and further and--
Then I can't. I can't do it. Then I don't want it. And I know nothing can be perfect. I can never make it perfect. So then I don't want it. Even though I do. I really, really do. But I can't stand it not being perfect. I can't stand the way every single tiny ugly imperfection glares at me, scratches at me screeching like sharp nails on a blackboard, makes me cringe and wince with discomfort because it's so very, very wrong.
5 comments:
Feh. Perfection is sooo overrated.
Also, wow. V'hamayvin, yavin.
I'm not advocating this, but if you ever find yourself ever so slightly, well, tipsy . . . you will. write. brilliantly. Just sayin'. There's a reason why the ink-stained wretches of yesterday (aka journalists) were depicted as, ah, having a bottle of something strong within arm's reach. For medicinal purposes, only, of course.
Ezzie - I know, I know. But thank you.
Ari - So basically...the answer to all my problems is to get drunk. :P
Voltaire: "The perfect is the enemy of the good."
Just be careful not to allow the quest for perfection turn into a reason for inaction. It's usually best to do something, anything, even something mediocre. It can be improved. A blank page cannot.
Hatzlacha always!!
What a terrible post. Why'd you impose it on us? You shouldn't have bothered taking fingers to keyboard for something like this.
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