Are You A Perfectionist When It Comes To Your Writing?

Let's talk about what you're really saying when you call yourself a perfectionist.

There’s a weird thing adults do when they meet other adults in the wild. Like, go to your neighbor’s barbeque or your cousin’s wedding and it’s inevitable. Some one is going to walk up and ask the question.

So, what do you do?

And you know exactly what they mean. On the surface, they’re asking how you earn a living. But the truth is, they don’t really care how you earn a living. Because they’ll probably never see you again. They want to know if you’re interesting. They want to know if they should talk to you or move along. They want to know if you’re above or below them on the social ladder. Maybe they want to hear what you say so they can smile politely and tell you they’re a surgeon. It’s not really about what you do.

If you doubt me, next time someone asks what you do, tell them you’re unemployed and watch tv all day because the job market is so depressing but your unemployment checks are going to run out soon and… they’ll leave skid marks.

When people ask what I do, I say I leap tall buildings in a single bound.

It’s funny to watch their faces.

The contortions they do while trying to figure out what to say to that. Then they just ask the question again. No really, what do you do?

So I tell them I’m a professional hero. People bring me business problems and I solve them. Their website isn’t converting, I fix it. Sales are down, I lift them up. Can’t get on page one of Google to save their lives, I put them there. Don’t know how to get traffic, don’t know how to get subscribers, I can fix that. That’s what I do.

Here’s the point.

We humans use shorthand in speech.

Sometimes, we use shorthand to start a conversation. And sometimes we use it to obfuscate the truth. Like calling ourselves a perfectionist.

Y’all. In the last week I’ve received at least four emails from readers telling me their biggest struggle as a writer is being a perfectionist. So I want to unpack that. What does that even mean? Because it could mean a whole lot of things.

Maybe it means you write on Medium and aren’t getting boosted and you’ve become obsessed with getting a damn post boosted. Or maybe it means your last seven posts got boosted and now you’re terrified to break the streak so you’re obsessing.

Maybe it means you know your writing skills aren’t where you want them to be and you are visualizing a killer story in your head, but on paper it didn’t come out as good as it was in your head and you’re trying to shape your words to match the quality you know you’re capable of, but you’re just not there yet and you know it.

Maybe it means you know your weakness, you know you have a tendency to ramble or to use too many fluff words, or a pace that’s a shade too slow, and you’re doing battle with your own monsters, your own writing idiosyncrasies.

Maybe it means you think your writing is too plain, too on the nose, and you wish it was a little more poetic. Maybe it means you know your words are a little too vague and people often misunderstand what you’re saying and you’re striving for clarity.

Maybe it means you’re watching some other writer who is hitting every bar you want to, in claps or reads or book sales or whatever. And you just want to get there too.

But you should know what you mean, shouldn’t you?

Because here’s the thing. We all know “perfectionism” is a ghost, yeah? Hemingway said we are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master. He’s not wrong. There is no perfect in writing.

And if you doubt that, I have an exercise for you. Take a piece you really liked. Write a synopsis of it. Then write a new story based on the synopsis. Because every story can be told more than one way. There’s the story, and there’s the words you use to tell it and they are not the same.

Here’s another way. Take a story you liked and cut it in half without losing meaning. You’ll quickly see that no writing is ever perfect, because it can’t be. There is no perfect in writing.

Tell you what there is, though. Really. Freaking. Strong. Not perfect. But really freaking strong. We’ve all read writing like that. Really powerful writing. But still. Not perfect.

Little secret. Sometimes when I’m fresh out of ideas and don’t know what to write about, I go look for a story that has a ton of response. I write a synopsis of that story and then go write my own version of it. Which one is perfect? Neither.

If you happened to go to art college, here’s a thing they teach. Critique. They actually teach art students HOW to critique art. So you don’t just say wow, that’s good. But you can explain the elements that make it good.

In writing, that’s what editors do. And I don’t mean editors on Medium. Maybe some, but not most. I mean editors who read writing every day in a professional capacity. Book editors and acquisition editors. They can say “nope” faster than you can shake your head. They know what to look for. What shouldn’t be there. And what should.

And I suspect, when you say you’re a perfectionist, the art of critique is maybe the idea you’re dancing circles around. Something your writing doesn’t have and you want it to. Or something it does have, and you don’t want it to.

Because calling yourself a perfectionist? That’s shorthand. But, for what?

Knowing that is the key to everything. And I think maybe you need to find the words to explain the struggle without the shorthand of the word perfectionist. First, because clarity is important. And secondly, because finding words is your job as a writer. And if you can’t even find the right words to describe your struggle, how are you supposed to find the right words for a story?

Your turn. Love to hear what you think.

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On Medium…

• My Stroke Of Insight. “Will Shatter Your Perception Of The World”

• Do You Even Know What Kind Of Jobs The Richest Men Are Creating?

• How Do Little Boys Go From Sweet To Scarier Than A Bear In The Woods?

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