“Perfectionism Is Fear In Fancy Shoes”

If your handwriting is bad like mine when you handwrite this quote from Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic, it looks like, “Perfectionism is fear, infancy shoes,” which makes sense if you think about it. Because if you try to walk in fear, you get really wobbly cause you’re top-heavy and full of ego like a toddler with their big ole head.

My hope was that by starting a blog, I’d relinquish the critic's mind.  By putting myself on a schedule to have a consistent output, I could release new work without mulling over it to make it airtight.

This morning I called a friend and told him about my existentialism.  He’s a writer. He gets it.  He knows what it’s like to miss the mark.  He’s a pedicabber in New Orleans.  He knows what getting through the winter is like on a trike.   We talked for twenty minutes.  We made plans for a writing retreat in Mississippi.  I felt better after our chat.  He said, “Try not to put too much pressure on yourself,” right before we hung up.

Then I thought about pearls and diamonds and how pressure makes jewels.  And then I thought about what if I could be a precious stone and the pressure is making me better.  I had this thought while covered in blankets.  Maybe the amount of layers I had between me and the outside world were somehow strengthening my shine. 

So if I’m in sweatpants and a hoodie and I have three blankets on top of me, that’s five-ish layers if you count the undies, which is pretty significant.  Does the couch I’m curled up on count?  It’s a layer between me and the floor.  Does the floor count?   That’s a layer between me and the cold ground.  

But what am I pressuring myself into? A false sense of perfectionism? The pressure is stifling and stifling is not the way I want to think of my art. So maybe I peel off some layers. Maybe I jump into a stream of consciousness. Like a double-dutch.  Maybe I show everyone my double-dutch even though I’ve never double-dutched before. And since there’s no way I can double-dutch with so many layers on, I have to unlayer myself. I have to let my art breathe.  I have to go for a run.