“Perfectionism is the voice of the Oppressor” and “Shitty first drafts.”

The shorter days are sending me into hibernation mode. I can barely keep my eyes open this morning and all I want to do is eat sweets. This feels like one of those mornings where curling up with tea and starring at the walls is a much better idea. And yet, I write.

I write because for far too many years I used all of the excuses not to write. I write because I spent far too long muffling my own voice, paralyzed by my perfectionism, all too terrified to let myself be seen. I write because it feels like breathing fresh air after too many years underground.

As I mentioned, I’ve been spending some of my writing time reading Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird and I’m delighted I found it when I did. Her insight into the writing brain is uncanny, authentic, and encouraging. Honestly, most of what she says reaches far beyond the world of writing. She describes perfectionism as “the voice of the oppressor” and I’ve never read truer words. Our fear of doing anything less than perfect, of being anything less than perfect, keeps us small and contained. We’re so much easier to control that way, and the worst part is, society trains us to do it to ourselves. It’s not always the critic that drives us into our shell, it’s the fear of criticism that makes us choose to keep ourselves there rather than taking the risk.

I get it. It’s a scary world to put your words, yourself, out into. I’m grateful that I have yet to be able to fix my blog, that so far my words have been able to stay in the safety of the tide pools because I know, out there, there be sharks. For now, I’m just glad I’m finally taking even this small chance and letting my words see the light of day. The time will come to leave that fear behind as well and venture out beyond the breakers to see what my words can do in the wider world.

Anne’s remedy for perfectionism? Embracing the art of the shitty first draft. Just get your words down, all of them. Don’t worry about the plot, or the point, or the flow. Just let them see the light of day in all their imperfect glory.

While these short musings are admittedly a bit more polished than the ramblings in my notebooks, they aren’t exactly finished works either. They are soundbites, scribbled down in stolen moments of time. They are, some of them, the embryos of ideas yet to come, chapters hoping to be written.

The freedom of sharing them with you, in all their glorious imperfection, is an incredible gift. I’m hoping, in the quiet moments of winter, when time becomes a little less scarce, to give them more of my attention, allow them to grow into their potential and send them out into the world. In the meantime, thank you for reading, for the kind words of encouragement, and for giving them the space to come into being.