“Hello Darkness, My Old Friend”

It was a dark and stormy night...

No, no, I’m not really going to start my story that way. That would be something 7-year-old Erin did.

Actually, that IS something 7-year-old Erin did.

Back in the 2nd grade, I wrote a short story about a bunny who got lost on a dark and stormy night (surprise!). Was the bunny’s name Stormy, too? I don’t remember for sure, but I think it was. What an imagination, huh?

I certainly wouldn’t win a Pulitzer.

But 7-year-old me didn’t care. She just loved her story. It sprang from her head and onto paper like magic. It took on a life of its own, but would always be a part of Erin. Of me.

That’s how creative work happened when I was little. I imagined it, I did it, I was proud of it. And I moved on to my next masterpiece.

And you better believe I won a creative writing award for that story; I’ve got the t-shirt to prove it.

As I look back on my early career (hey, that was my fiction period), I have just one question...

What happened? 

These days, I toil and question and rework and question some more and toil some more...and eventually I scrap the whole thing altogether.

Ernest Hemingway famously said:

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

Or, at least, the quote is often attributed to him and that’s what the all-knowing internet claims.

Anyway, now, as a professional writer, projects often feel like a bloodletting. Sometimes the kind using leeches.

Sure, I think creatives should constantly work to improve their art. And I think we should hold our work to a higher standard than we did in elementary school, especially when clients and payments are involved.

But I think the real reason my work has become so painstaking at times is not just because I’m growing and stretching, and it’s not just because there is pressure to produce something clients will love.

The real culprit here—the real reason for my blood, sweat, and tears—is my long-time foe, Perfectionism.

I’ve always been a perfectionist, no doubt, but the older I get and the more widely my work is distributed, the more I criticize and doubt myself.

I can’t just record a video and have it be “good enough.”

I don’t have the...ahem...guts to put my podcast out into the world. (What if it’s boring? The horror!)

I can’t muster the motivation to write with the same frequency I once did.

All because of damn Perfectionism with a capital “P.”

It’s not that I don’t still love writing. I do. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. I’ve got plenty. It’s that I care far too much about how my work is received. Or, perhaps, how I’m received.

So that’s the point of writing this article today. To give Perfectionism the middle finger. Maybe both middle fingers.

I’m writing this article in one draft—no outlining, no revisions. And I’m sharing it with the world exactly as it is. I’m embracing 7-year-old me and letting the story write itself, letting the words magically spring from my head onto paper...er, computer screen.

It’s an act of defiance, and it feels so liberating (I’m quite the rebel, in case you didn’t know).

Yes, we should strive for quality, but Perfectionism has no place in creative work. It’s a sure way to kill productivity, and it may just prevent you from putting an idea into the world that people need to hear. It also takes the fun out of a craft you once loved, and could love again.

If you’ve ever had a toxic person in your life—one that constantly makes you feel inferior, like you can’t do anything right—that’s how Perfectionism operates. It’s no good for you, and it’s time to find new friends.

Here’s what I do when I get in a slump and need to give Perfectionism the boot:

• Turn to my circle. If you have truly supportive people in your life, preferably ones that are in a similar line of work and get what you’re going through, connect with them. Voice your frustrations, share your ideas, and get feedback. They’ll probably slap you and say “Your work is brilliant, now go share it!” A dose of tough love might be in order. Or gentle encouragement, whatever your preference.
• Stop consuming. Not food; food's delicious. I'm talking about other people's content. Look, I love reading (or watching or listening to) other people’s work and supporting fellow creatives. There’s always something to learn. But if you’re battling Perfectionism in a bad way, it may be time to put on the blinders for a bit. Perfectionism often stems from comparison, so remove that from the equation.
• Liberate yourself. Easier said than done, I know. But just as I’m doing with this post, it may be time for you to dig deep, put on a brave face, and hit “Post.” Or “Publish” or “Send,” as the case may be. If you’re really nervous about sharing your imperfect work, step away after you’ve shared it and don’t check your notifications for a while! This is a game-changer. In a way, you’re removing the power Perfectionism has over you. Who cares if not everyone likes it? Most likely, you’ll receive more praise than criticism anyway.

Perfectionism isn’t something I’ll probably ever get completely rid of, but it is something I can keep in check. And as a creative and a business owner, it’s something I must keep in check, otherwise I can kiss my business and my dreams goodbye.

Award-winning, 7-year-old me would be disappointed with anything less.

Do you find Perfectionism creeping into your life from time-to-time? Has it ever held you back? How do you deal with it? I’d love to hear your stories!