Reading that title might have you scratching your head. What is tricky about perfection? What could possibly be wrong with it? Surely it’s a good thing to try our best and strive to improve. And indeed, conventional wisdom tells us that if we write the perfect book, have the perfect social media presence, and conduct the perfect marketing campaign—success will be ours!
But perfection isn’t that simple and there is a difference between striving for excellence as a way to do our best versus chasing the illusion that any human creative endeavor can be perfect. Striving for your best work is vastly different from holding yourself to impossibly perfect standards.
Perfection is the trickster god of virtues because it fools you into thinking it IS a virtue. That it’s an indicator of how much you care, how hard you work, how dedicated you are. But in reality, perfection is often not about any of those things. It is an unattainable, unreachable illusion and in pursuing it, we often kill or destroy some of the most human and joyous experiences available to us.
Perfection insists that we perform our lives rather than live them. That we allow external measures to shape and control our happiness rather than our own lived experiences, and therein lies its peril.
Some hints you might be a perfectionist are:
- If you are filled with great ideas but never quite manage to get them down because you know you can’t do justice to them.
- If you simply cannot give yourself permission to write a crappy first draft.
- If you find yourself polishing the same three chapters over and over again and never get any farther in the book.
- If you find yourself researching or world-building for YEARS in order to get everything right but have not actually written any parts of the story yet.
- If a lot of your self-talk includes words like: sub-standard, lacking, idiot, loser, fail, disappointing, unworthy.
But wait! Even if you got through that list and didn’t see yourself, you’re not free yet because overachieving is a form of perfection. (Remember that Trickster God of Virtues, thing.) So you might also be a perfectionist if:
- You do every. single. possible. thing. promoting your book to the point of physical, emotional, and financial exhaustion.
- You are a workaholic—never allowing yourself to fill the well or take a vacation or delegate a task.
- You are on such a hamster wheel of deadlines and contracts that you no longer even enjoy your work and your creativity is on life support.
This kind of perfectionism is often rooted in a need to exceed expectations and be above reproach. It is one, I might add, that writers are especially vulnerable to because there is such a degree of luck in any writer’s success and we feel we must do everything in our power to earn and justify it.
So what’s a perfectionist to do??
Well, here’s the good news. As writers, we’re very good at drilling down to plumb the depths of our characters and find their deepest, hidden truths. If we try this with perfectionism, we quickly find some surprises.
As we start drilling, it becomes clear that perfection is about meeting expectations and measuring up. It’s about avoiding disappointing people or not wanting to risk censure or judgment. Which brings us to perfection’s deepest core truth—Fear. Fear of being vulnerable or unworthy or unlovable. Fear of humiliation or shame.
Perfectionism is the belief that if we hit each stepping stone just right, we will be worthy of love that we fear we don’t deserve without earning it by being perfect. That if we are perfect enough, we will avoid the pain that life, relationships, writing, or a career in publishing will bring. The problem is, we will also avoid the joys they bring as well.
It’s hard to feel deeply satisfied about stretching ourselves creatively and achieving something wondrous and unique if we are focused on perfection, because perfection is a goal we will never attain. Worse, like fool’s gold, it is so bright and shiny that it can make the hard won, genuine achievements of our lives feel as significant as dust
So many writers find themselves on this quest for elusive perfection even though we know that fear puts a stranglehold on our ability to create. We want so badly not to offend our readers or have them hate our books (or worse—us!) and we think if we write a perfect book, we can avoid the pain of that. But that is an impossible task—reading tastes and people’s own experiences simply add too much to their reading experience, and the exact things one person loves will be the exact things that make someone else hate it. And even though we KNOW that, we also secretly think if we find the secret to perfection, we can avoid that pain.
How do we combat perfectionism?
Once we realize perfection is just a fancier, better dressed, and more socially acceptable version of fear, it becomes easier to dissect.
The roots of perfectionism are often found in some of our primal childhood fears—ones we probably don’t even realize we have. At this point in our lives they only exhibit as undefined anxieties or phobias, which I think perfectionism is a kissing cousin to.
Here is probably a good place to note that while it’s likely that our perfectionism is rooted in childhood, it is often NOT AT ALL in proportion to the degree of misery being caused. But the truth of being human is that even the most happy of childhoods is filled with ‘necessary losses’.
Every single one of us has wounds and scars and false beliefs from childhood. Even they aren’t related to traumatic upbringing, our child minds can latch onto them, creating a distorted worldview as they try to make sense of the world. The trick now, as adults, and, more importantly, adults wanting to create art of some kind, we need to trace the threads of perfection back to our specific childhood fears and misbeliefs so we can snip that thread and let it go. Once those unspecified, unspoken fears are named and confronted, they can be recognized for the powerless boogeymen they are.
Again, I cannot reiterate strongly enough that such roles were not instilled upon us for negative reasons. It can be as simple as a parent who did poorly in school, focusing slightly too much attention on their child’s academic gifts, convincing the child that’s why they matter.
Or a easily bored child always being told to go do something productive can internalize that message so that even as an adult, they can never allow themselves to relax or take a vacation.
The mother who, in order to justify her decision to be a SAHM, vows to raise the perfect child, unwittingly instilling a sense in that child that they must indeed be perfect,
Or the child who intuits their parents needs and fills them, feeling safe and loved by their praise of their sensitivity, which in turn can become internalize a belief that their role is to please others.
How do we break this perfection habit? There are a number of ways to do this. I suggest trying all of them.
- Separate the work from the end result, and then separate that from your self.
- Ask yourself if your quest for perfection is feeding your ego or your soul. (Tip: The soul needs feeding, egos not so much.)
- Focus on the process—whether it is joyful or satisfyingly difficult—and not our achievements.
- This one is a toughie, but—step back and try to begin to deconstruct your own need for perfection. Play the “what’s the worst that can happen” game. Here are the instructions:
Pick a thing you are certain must be perfect. And then imagine it is not. Ask yourself, what’s the worst that can happen?
If I write a first draft that isn’t perfect—what will happen?
- I will have proved I’m a terrible writer. (perception)
- I’ll hate myself for being horrible. (shame)
- I will have exposed how presumptuous I was to even attempt such a thing. (unworthiness/humiliation)
- If others ever found out, they would point and laugh at me and I would be humiliated. (vulnerability)
A more productive—and true—way to frame that same scenario would be:
- I will realize I am a beginner.
- I will have a better understanding of where I am on my creative journey.
- I will begin to realize how very much there is to learn about writing and set my expectations accordingly.
- Now that I understand all this, it will be easier to find an appropriate support/critique group to grow with.
Okay, here’s another one.
What if I step off the hamster wheel that conventional wisdom tells me I MUST stay on in order to achieve publishing success? (Note: stepping off the wheel can take many forms—asking for a deadline extension, reducing your promotional load, or simply agreeing to write only two books a year instead of four.)
- My sales will plummet. (performance/expectations)
- I will stop getting contracts. (respect)
- My readers will forget about me. (love)
- I will be a failure. (unworthiness)
- Worse, I will have brought it on myself by not following the established rules. (shame)
- I might have to work in another field. (loser)
- I will be a loser and humiliated and everyone will think less of me. (vulnerable)
If you let go of perfection, another truer way this could play out might be:
- Maybe the actual effect I have on book sales is smaller than my publisher’s.
- It’s possible my next advance will be smaller, but I’ll have a more realistic chance of earning out. Or maybe I’ll have to write the next book on spec again.
- My readers could conceivably wait for my next book, especially if we stay connected through one or two social media channels.
- I will have learned that I cannot do everything and have to concentrate my efforts on what I can actually have the most control over—the writing.
- Many writers have full or part time jobs, which can be a healthy way to take the financial pressure off the writing.
- I will have put my health and soul work first.
- I will have generated the white space needed to create my strongest work yet, which in turn could completely erase my first four concerns.
It can be very easy to convince ourselves that OUR quest for perfection has nothing to do with pleasing others or fear but is something we do for ourselves. A drive to achieve lofty goals or to be the best, pursued only for our own personal satisfaction.
But even then, if we ask ourselves why gently enough and often enough, we will often find that we have developed or internalized a message that in order to matter, we need to be the best. That without the trappings of success or the patina of great talent, we are not enough.
Which brings us to the often hard, but hugely rewarding parts of being an adult. We get to decide what our own truths are. We get to rewire our thoughts and perceptions so they are in line with what we truly believe or what is in fact a healthier way of understanding the world and our place in it.
We get to cast aside the perils of false perfectionism and allow ourselves to be fully—imperfectly—human and embrace life in all its glorious imperfection.
Can you identify anything that has you stalled due to the need to be perfect? Can you pick one and walk it through the steps above? What does it boil down to? [Note: If you’re having a hard time identifying anything, look at some of the things that make you most anxious. Oftentimes those anxieties are an indirect expression of a hidden drive to be perfect.]
About Robin LaFevers
Robin LaFevers is the author of seventeen books for young readers, including the HIS FAIR ASSASSIN trilogy about teen assassin nuns in medieval France and the upcoming COURTING DARKNESS. A lifelong introvert, she currently lives on a blissfully quiet hill in Southern California.
Thanks so much for this — I always get a ton of insights from your posts. I can definitely trace the links you make here between perfectionism and fear! It packs a big punch, doesn’t it? Lately, as I work on a new (exciting) project, I am repeating the mantra that this first, messy draft is the worst the book will ever be — which is fine. And normal. It’s also an opportunity. Once I have that first draft down, it becomes a wide field for playing, stretching, getting more creative. This has helped me a lot with my perfectionism in writing. I’m looking forward to reading how others work through that process. Thanks again for a very helpful and timely post!
GO YOU for rejecting fear and risking that messy draft and diving into your new exciting project. Good luck with it, Lisa!
Practice makes perfect? After twenty books, I’ve learned to practice to be imperfect.
What I mean is that each project, for me, is not about getting it “right”, but about what I can learn. I set myself challenges, which necessarily means knocking off the high bar many times before I jump over it.
If I am haunted by any childhood fear, it is fear if saying what I feel. That has caused me to restrain characters on the page. I am getting over that, but like all hard things it’s not a straight line from here to there.
I’m getting attuned to my fear, catching it more often. I know it’s trying to get me when I see myself writing what I think should be on the page rather than what my characters know they must say and do. When I follow the words instead of following the feelings, it’s my fear holding me back.
I’m learning. What an awesome and important post, Robin, welcome back to WU.
Wow, Benjamen! It sounds like you’re pretty far along on your own path to conquering perfectionism. I have a similar process to yours in that each new book I work on affords me a chance to develop an element of craft I haven’t mastered yet. That’s actually one of the parts I love about writing–so much opportunity for growth! :-)
Also kudos to you for choosing a field (writing!) which forces you to not only face, but overcome that childhood fear.
Thank you. I needed to read this. I am just starting as a writer after retiring from a 35-year career. Some days I find myself in doubt, but I know it is just a fear of failure and a desire for perfection. Your post helps me move forward with less worry and more joy and confidence.
So happy it was helpful, Nancy! Please do try to embrace the joyous part of writing–especially as you just start out. It is heady, heady stuff, that joy.
Robin, so great to read your words again on WU. I have to remind myself that perfection only happens in heaven, that it is the enemy of the good, and then get on with it. It’s the striving that matters. Thank you for this essay.
Perfection absolutely IS the enemy of the good! I also like the Leonard Cohen quote about how the cracks are how the light gets in. I think that very much applies to all art.
Robin, what an insightful post. It resonated deeply with me — so much so that I copied it and pasted it on my desktop for reading every day. You’re a treasure — thank you.
You’re so welcome, Lorraine! (Love your name, btw. It’s my middle name!)
Amazingly insightful and wise. I agree, Robin is a treasure. (Coincidentally, my middle name is Lorraine also.)
Gosh, with the occasional Robin LaFevers post, who needs psychotherapy? Seriously, wonderful essay, and wonderful having you back, Robin.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I’m trying to accomplish. And you’re really helping me to frame it in a new light. I read a lot of epic fantasy series (as well as some YA fantasy, urban fantasy, etc.) with this idea of figuring out what I’m seeking in my own writing in mind. Out of perhaps a score of opening books to fantasy series read in the past few years, only a handful have made me feel I *must* read on. I’ve collected only a dozen or so favorite fantasy authors over the years (including you), whose new books are an auto-purchase for me. I know I’d like to become someone’s auto-buy, but technically that doesn’t define what I’m trying to achieve. So when I read these auto-buy offerings (and the ones that don’t quite do it for me), I’m trying to see what it is about them.
This might sound like an obvious thing to consider, and perhaps I should’ve done it long ago. And I suppose subconsciously I’ve been doing it all along. After all, I set out to write the kind of books I love to read. But getting more specific about the lure of these series, it doesn’t seem like perfection has much to do with it. I often find myself internally grousing about things like overwritten prose, subplots that aren’t as essential as they could/should be, missed opportunities for greater emotional impact, and incomplete arcs for major characters at the end of an edition (especially that). So what does make them auto-buys? That’s the elusive part. Hence my long analysis. It doesn’t seem to be any particular character trait. Not even likability (some fascinating characters aren’t all that likable). I suppose, if anything, it’s that they remain relatable. And likewise, the world-building, the systems of magic, the writing style (first-person versus third, gritty versus lovely, pointed versus poetic, etc.) – these auto-buy authors are all over the board on all of these elements.
I suppose if there’s one thing I can boil it down to, it’s an immersive quality. Each of these series is a place I want to be, and want to get back to when I’m not there. I know we’re taught to keep the tension high, and to end each scene with a crisis or irresistible segue, and I do seek to do that. But those things aren’t what I’m anticipating when I grab my book and settle in with an hour or two available to read. Quite often I can’t even recall what was happening when I last read until I open the book again. There’s usually not something pressing about the story itself that keeps me in anticipation. It’s the feeling of being swept away again. It’s almost like a buzz that you’ve gained a mild addiction for.
That’s what I’m seeking. It’s the kind of thing that inspires fan chatrooms, and inspires artists to create fan art. It provides a strong connection because readers can all look at one another and say, “you love being there, too?” It’s a unique human connection – one that spreads, and builds a feeling of community. And I want to provide it.
I feel like my characters and my world are worthy. But after reading your post, I can see that I do worry. I worry that I haven’t quite found the way to create that kind of immersion – to portray them in a way that brings people into the zone I describe above. And it’s a fear that slows me down these days. I continue to make progress. But the questions are always there, lingering in the back of my mind: Is this going to provide immersion? Will I ever be an auto-buy?
Sorry for the essay-length comment, but it’s helped me sort my thoughts. And now, having read your wonderful essay, I can see that I don’t need to worry so much about being perfect on the page. I can see that perfection is not what creates what I’m striving for. And I’ve realized that I’ll never know until it’s out there whether or not I’m providing that sort of immersion. Plus, I’m sure that even if I do provide it for some, I’ll totally miss the mark for many others. So why bother worrying? It either will or it won’t. Nothing I do today will change that. But, if it does connect, even with a very few, what I do today will provide for them. What more could motivation could I need than that? Thanks, Robin!
It’s great to be back, Vaughn! If only for one post. :-)
Your search in trying to understand what makes a book compelling to you is fascinating! And I would agree with that immersive experience being absolutely at the top of the list. (Not to mention that I’m thrilled that my books do that!) But that immersive quality is hard to nail down, I think.
I think that you’re right that it’s not always about high tension on a macro scale, but I do wonder if that immersive experience isn’t somehow related to Donald Maass’s concept of micro tension? Because really, we want the current page the reader is reading to command his full attention, rather than have them skimming or skipping to find out what’s going to happen in the plot. I think micro tension is the key to that.
Learning about that, and applying it, seemed to be a game changer for me. Also micro tensions are so very human, which also contributes to making our characters utterly real and convincing.
It’s also helpful to remember that if one doesn’t achieve that in the current book, it is still achievable in the next one.
But then it all boils down to your ending point, which is connecting with some readers and providing them with that experience is what its all about.
Great observation and reminder about micro-tension, Robin. Yes, my immersive favorites rarely have even a single skim-inducing page. For these stories, I want to be there, for every utterance, for every daily routine, for every journey to the next setting. When I think about each of them, I think you’re right, this is something each of these authors (including you) has mastered.
Thanks again! Hope all is going well for you. Please come back as often as possible. Looking forward to your next auto-purchase offering. :-)
Ditto tall ALL of the above comments, and this from me; having just had a conversation about perfection with my daughter. She was s saying how perfectionism has held her back from starting a business, and I was about to say something wise, only I saw the same thing in myself. It hasn’t stopped me from starting so much as finishing. And yes, if i look back, I can see where, like Benjamin, I was told to be quiet as a kid. To get my feet on the ground, my head out of the clouds, etc. After reading your post and everyone’s comments, I can also see how i avoid messiness. Then, after Vaughn’s insightful comment, I realized how messy and unruly and meandering some of my favorite books really are. So awesome! Thank you for the tools and suggestions you offered today, and the wonderful responses your post inspired.
So much in this post resonated with me. Thank you for sharing!
Robin:
I read an essay by Silas Dent Zobal that parallels yours. Instead of agonizing about failing to capture a character or write a scene to perfection, he writes, incorporate it into the narrative. Make your inability to “nail it” part of the character’s experience. Make your inability to perfectly explain a character’s motivation part of the character himself. After all, only God knows and understands things perfectly, in all their aspects. Letting that ambiguity as story element can add authenticity.
An important post for writers at any stage of the writing process. THANKS.
So much power in this Robin, to free yourself from endless fuss of pick-pick-picking at our work (and ourselves) and let some other elements of our writing efforts—instinct? momentum?—have their moment.
Your piece made me think of Twain’s Huck Finn, which he tinkered with on and off for seven years, and finally released. The ending has been criticized by many for its farcical aspects, after stirring emotional development between Huck and Jim. But it remains a masterpiece—I’m glad Mr. Clemens didn’t keep tinkering until the end.
Taking another tack, Casablanca was allegedly written on the fly, with scenes filmed from their writing of the night before. The legend has it that the writers didn’t have clarity on the ending of the film almost up to its final filming. They don’t sound like perfectionists, and yet, another masterpiece.
And consider my breakfast this morning: I mixed four different cereals, and added fruit too, and I didn’t use any recipe. Casual perfection. Thanks for a fine piece.
I’m late to comment because I tend to wait for Feedburner to deliver the link to my Inbox. (Bad fan!) Thank you for writing this, Robin, and it’s wonderful to see something from you again.
I understand this all too well. I feel like the silver ball in the New Writers’ pinball machine. I feel bounced between two flippers: “Perfection is the enemy of ‘done’ ” and “Your manuscript must be pristine.” Back and forth. ::Bang, bang, bang!:: Then gutterball down the middle to be recycled again. :) The key, I guess, is to keep coming back for another go. Maybe, thanks to the ideas you present in this article, I can ease the banging.
Thanks again.
Lots of life remains unlived for fear of the dreaded unmet expectation. Thanks for this reminder of how crippling and universal the quest for perfection is.
I have always followed my own adage:
“Do it badly — but at least do it!”
I self-published my first book in 1989. When I look at it today, I realize how “unprofessional” it was. No problem, however, given that my books (mainly self-published) have now sold over 960,000 copies worldwide.
I self-published my second book (“The Joy of Not Working”) in 1991. The first edition had over 150 spelling errors in it, which I didn’t discover until three years later when the book had sold over 30,000 copies. For the record the book has now sold over 300,000 copies, earned me over $800,000 in pretax profits, and still continues to sell over 7,000 copies a year.
These words of wisdom apply when it comes to perfection:
“Perfection is a trifle dull. It is not the least of life’s ironies that this, which we all aim at, is better not quite achieved.”
— W. Somerset Maugham
“Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.”
— William Shakespeare
“It is far better to know too little than to know too much.”
— Samuel Butler
“A lot of disappointed people have been left standing on the street corner waiting for the bus marked Perfection.”
— Donald Kennedy
Boy Robin, did you hit this nail on the head! An excellent essay on the heavy weight of perfectionism. I must admit, I identified with nearly all of your points. I am aware this is an issue for me and at 63, I’m finally trying to ease up on myself. In some ways, that trait is what helped me get through really tough times in my life. I was determined to be strong and not let anything defeat me. I didn’t, but I’m trying to let go and realize, time to rest. Thanks so much for sharing.