I am a perfectionist, at almost everything I do I want to be the best, and I’ve been this way for as long as I can imagine; and for the most part it works in my favor. But then there are the times, when it absolutely doesn’t. Particularly when I’m rewriting something for the thousandth time, as is the case with my current work-in-progress. This is in fact a well tread subject on this blog. In fact I think I’ve written at least three different blog posts about this subject. Entire weeks could be dedicated just to the subject of my frustrations with the side of me that wants my story to be perfect and the realization and knowledge that no such thing exists. Even the best stories, the stories I love and that inspire me aren’t perfect. There are always flaws and even the best writer will admit there are things they’d change given half the chance, but that’s just it, after a certain point you no longer have the chance, and being that I want to go the traditional route with publishing after a certain point I’m going to have to let the story go long enough that one could conceivably want to publish it.
But this has always been tricky for me, I’d like to think in some ways I’ve gotten better at dealing with it, but I think that remains to be seen.