“Done is better than perfect.”
This was a message I absolutely did NOT want to hear when I first heard it. The way I saw it, if my creative work was going to succeed — if it was going to represent me out in the wild, — it had to be perfect.
(Maybe you’ve had this thought before, too.)
I didn’t want to publish something that was merely done — done wasn’t good enough. Simply done wasn’t up to my standards.
Plus, everyone else out there seemed to be easily, breezily publishing perfect things. Look at all the classics, the bestsellers, the award-winners — why should I settle for done when I could create something great? A masterpiece? Something… dare I say, perfect?
But when I ran out of hours one day for a client project I was working on, my boss very gently told me, “Done is better than perfect.” And in doing so, he gave me permission to release my perfectionist’s hold on the work, send it to the client, and move on to something else.
It was the most liberating thing in the world.
I (perhaps like you) have been a perfectionist my entire life. Hitting “publish” or “send” or “submit” on something that I know isn’t perfect is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to teach myself to do. But it is absolutely critical if you want to get anything out in front of your audience.
We need to create a body of work that grows along with us.
And that means hitting “publish” or “send” or “submit” on something that isn’t perfect. It means slowly making peace with the notion that we aren’t perfect — that we are human and flawed and beautiful and good despite it all.
It means understanding that perfectionism is a form of fear — an excuse to keep us from sharing our creative work and thus appearing vulnerable, or flawed, or — dare we say it? — imperfect.
This week, I want you to ask yourself:
- What does perfect mean to you?
- What does done mean for you, in regard to your creative work?
- What are you willing to sacrifice, truly, to move forward with your creative work?
- What makes you feel happy and fulfilled as a creator?
These are questions only you can answer, because they hearken back to why you create in the first place.
(For example, if you ever want to see your name on the cover of a book, you have to finish writing the book first. But if you’re writing simply to experience the joy (and frustration) of creating, then “done” might not be a priority, or even a goal.)
I have to tell you — in today’s letter, I was initially going to talk about how “perfect” doesn’t exist, and how it’s a shining, unattainable trap that keeps us from sharing our work. But… I’m not here to judge. You are creating for your own reasons, and I respect that.
I just want you to really understand, truly and deeply, what those reasons are.
Words & warmth,
Sarah