Copyright © 2002 by Angela Booth It's Saturday afternoon. Your partner has taken
kids to
park. You have a whole hour to write. Instead of which, you sit, staring out
window like Rodin's Thinker in jeans and a yellow sweatshirt. Why aren't you writing? A tiny item called Perfection Syndrome. You want whatever you write in this precious hour to be perfect.
During
week, you had a stream of plausible ideas. You wrote three ideas in your notebook: an article about children's first words (your six month old said 'truck'), an essay about male vanity, and a short story about a blonde with tattooed arms and a poodle.
Just now, none of those ideas seems right. You've only got an hour, so you want
perfect idea,
one that will justify
sixty minutes you're about to spend on it. Instead, you do nothing.
Perfection Syndrome can destroy your writing career. It's a killer, because if you don't recognise it for what it is, it leads to apathy. The gap between what's in your head and what manifests on
page is so wide that you may give up writing for days or weeks.
I understand Perfection Syndrome, because it's something I battle every day. The words on
screen or
page never measure up to
words in my head. I start typing, and after a sentence or two, stop. The words "this is garbage" light up like neon in my skull, my stomach clenches, and I feel as if a ten ton weight had dropped onto my body. It's not as if I'm a new writer. I've been writing for over 20 years. Intellectually, I understand that it's important to get words onto
screen --- any words. You can fix whatever you write. Emotionally, I want
first draft to be perfect. I've accepted that perfectionism is part of my personality, and without a personality transplant, I'm never going to get rid of it, so all I can do is out-write it.
Yes, out-write it. A practice that's helped is Julia Cameron's Morning Pages method, which is detailed in her books: The Artist's Way, and Vein of Gold. The first thing I do each morning is write three pages in longhand. This primes
pump, and if I accomplish
Morning Pages, I know that I can count on a productive writing day, and Perfection Syndrome is beaten for this 24 hours at least.
Updating my inner "writer" image also helped. Images are
language of
right brain and
subconscious mind. Your subconscious mind is
engine which drives you. My initial image of my writing self was of a mountain climber, clinging to vertical rock and ice, unable to see
mountain peak, but terrorized by a crevasse below. No wonder I needed every word to be perfect, if
alternative was death. A more nourishing image popped into my mind. I saw my writing self as a seed-sower,
old-time kind, with a deep hessian bag of seeds, walking along
furrows of a field of fertile soil, scattering seeds with both hands. Now, whenever I feel panicked about my writing, I visualize myself as
sower, scattering those seeds. Ask yourself what image you hold of yourself as a writer.