I am perfectionist. All “I”s dotted, all “T”s crossed. Everything in its place and a place for everything. Angles aligned perfectly at ninety degrees. Then, and only then, is it presentable.
The problem is I never reach completion because there is always room for more. More edits, more revisions, more tweaks. I become stuck in analysis paralysis, always almost, not quite, never enough. The end result is often failure as I walk away in defeat.
Such is the state of my writing career. I ponder each paragraph on the page. I scrutinize every word in each sentence. Not quite satisfied, I walk away, promising myself I’d revisit the issue later. But the result is still the same: NOTHING.
After years of spinning my wheels (going absolutely nowhere), I am trying something new:
Instead of perfect, I will strive for done. With that in mind, I will end here.