A Perfect Fit

by Kathy Flake

There’s a saying one of my email friends includes in her sig line: "Have no fear of perfection--you’ll never reach it."

I don’t understand that. In fact, I don’t fear my perfectionism, I embrace it. It’s as much a part of me as my left kidney. (An apt analogy: without it, I’d eliminate a lot less.)

I first realized I was a perfectionist a few years ago, while reading The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. In one section, she described me– well, perfectly–and labeled this condition as "perfectionism." I was shocked. Me, a perfectionist? My house is always messy! My hair wouldn’t know a brush from a curling wand. I can’t possibly be a perfectionist, I thought. But then I realized the reason my house is a wreck is because I don’t dare attempt to clean it up. What if I miss that wad of lint under the baseboard? What if I overlook a moldy raisin, hiding behind the refrigerator coils? I’d have to live with the failure forever.

It’s the same with writing. I avoid my manuscript, sometimes for months at a time, because I just don’t have the energy to scale the lofty heights of perfection. The perfect scene, the perfect plot twist, the perfect novel, eludes me, just like the saying above warns.

Obviously, whoever wrote that didn’t write it to help us perfectionists. We already know that perfection doesn’t exist–that’s the whole problem!

Recently, during an online discussion, someone mentioned her perfectionism was impeding her progress with her salsa dancing lessons: she was afraid of making a fool out of herself. But at least she’s trying. I don’t dance at all, for that very reason. Modern dancing is too unstructured–no amount of lessons would ever convince my perfectionist soul I was swinging the "right" way. I’d be petrified I’d twirl left instead of right, and end up on the floor, right behind the raisin.

A close cousin to perfectionism is a strong desire to win. I’ve never liked to play unless I’m winning. (You don’t want to play Monopoly with me–I hurl the dice if I miss out on buying Boardwalk.) I don’t do sports, either–except for walking. I have to say, I’m exceptionally good at walking, although my husband swears my goal is to set a land speed record.

That, ultimately, is what keeps me writing. I want to win. I want to be perfect. One day, just maybe, I will write the perfect novel. Or maybe just a perfect scene. Heck, I’d even settle for a perfect sentence.

Like walking, I know I can do that.

So, I continue to embrace perfectionism, one sentence at a time...one perfectly spelled, punctuated, and exquisitely chosen word at a time...

And try to ignore those raisins.