Reader,

I was scheduled to lead a storytelling workshop at 11 AM a few weeks back–a session I’ve conducted countless times over the past couple of years. But at 8 AM that morning, my perfectionist drive kicked in. I suddenly decided I needed to create something entirely new: fresh images, different colour schemes, better font choices. I wanted to introduce cool transitions to make it even more sophisticated.

In retrospect, I didn’t need to reinvent the wheel, I just needed minimal updates–refresh the slides and bring in new insights–to make it work.

Instead, I was tinkering and obsessing over tiny details, only to look at my watch and discover it was just 30 minutes to my session. I had barely made it halfway through my revisions, and it dawned on me that I needed to stop.

With the clock ticking, I went back to my old trusted slides, and quickly brought in the new texts and images I needed–and the session was one of the best I’ve hosted recently.

I was a terrible manager of my own time and had languished hours of precious time on a white elephant perfectionist project.

I see this happen when I have to send simple emails as well. I expend a disproportionate amount of energy rethinking word choice, rewriting sentences; and second-guessing my analysis!

Can you relate, Reader?

There’s always this unattainable ideal in the horizon we chase–the perfect presentation, the perfect email, the perfect sentence.

But the chase often ends in stress, anxiety, paralysis.

But what’s behind this relentless chase for perfection?

I have a theory.

I think beneath the deep layer is our fear of making mistakes; of being judged. So we put on impossibly high standards, and unintentionally turn simple tasks into sources of anxiety, and often lose the joy of the creative process.

I’m currently reading Rick Rubin’s “Creative Act”, and it’s been helpful with this struggle.

Here's what he says:

“When you believe the work before you is the single piece that will forever define you, it’s difficult to let it go. The urge for perfection is overwhelming. It’s too much. We are frozen, and sometimes end up convincing ourselves that discarding the entire work is the only way to move forward.”

From the book, I’ve created this principle that has helped me avoid the relentless chase of perfection and decide when a work is done:

A work is done when I feel it is.
No piece of my work is perfect;
it is only a reflection of who I am at this moment.
Tomorrow it might be worth less to me,
but right now it is good enough.

The urge to perfect the big things in our lives and the small is an advantage; but as with most things, our strengths can often be a weakness. Finding a balance, know when to be ok with ‘good enough’ should be the goal.

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Talk next week,

Henry

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