be perfect or die

Writing’s been pretty steady this month, albeit loomed large by one big THING which I’ll get into later.

War is no longer declared

I know, we were all wondering when long awaited short story “War is Declared” was going to come out and redefine fiction. Probably not for a while. I’ve been more interested in other projects, and I needed a break from it anyway. But I will return to it, I promise. If only so rabid fans don’t firebomb my house.

The Banker is still mucking about with them sellswords

About two thirds into the second draft, 13300 words, and looking like a VERY different story from where it started. I’m definitely over the hump and speeding towards the end, and it’s possible that I’ll finish the second draft come next month, but don’t hold your breath. Unless you’re into that sort of thing in which case carry on.

Reality machine online

For a while now, I’ve had a hankering to write some sort of spiritual successor to Reincarnate. I’ve always had a soft spot for that particular combination of spiritualism and characters trapped in a labyrinthine bureaucratic corporate machine they can never fully comprehend. I couldn’t tell you why it appeals to me so much except for, y’know, the general state of things right now.

So I finally dug up a story fragment I had written months ago and bashed out a full first draft of what I’m now calling The Reality Machine. I managed to squirt out 4000 words in a matter of 3 days, which certainly feels like it should be a personal record. I won’t say anything on the plot for now, except that it became a lot more of a character piece than I was expecting.

My current plan is to start on revision once I’m done with BatS, but the idea of revising it right now has been rolling around in the back of my mind for a while now so who knows. You’ll know what part of my brain wins that argument if the story drops next month.

Perfectionism is lame and deserves to die

It happened again. It always bloody happens. I got on a roll with my drafts and was writing my absolute heart out. Is what I wrote good? Not really. There are parts I’m proud of, sure, but early drafts are more about plopping loose words together to be fixed later in revision. But then the voices crept in. The evil, evil voices:

“This has to represent you! Is this the best you can do?”

“You’re obsessed with being critically acclaimed, right? You need to do better than this.”

“Sure, it’s good to draft quickly just to get through the story, but what if you write so bad that it’s unsalvageable come revision time? Why don’t you just pack it in and start a new story, but this time DON’T screw it up.”

NO, BAD

If you have these thoughts as well, you have contracted perfectionism. It IS terminal and you WILL die.

The real problem is the collision of intent between the artist part of the brain and the internal editor. One wants to run free and have fun and play with their toys like a kid, and the other wants to barge in and explain how awful what they’re making is and how they should instead spend an hour staring at a wall until what they make isn’t fetid dog plops. And the editor can be surprisingly convincing in this regard. After all, a healthy dose of criticism and introspection is not an inherently unhealthy impulse. But, especially during the drafting process, it’s too much.

DON’T let it have that control. That’s how we get losers with a million stalled projects and a lot of bad feelings that don’t accomplish anything.

So how did I fix this? Easier said than done but here’s what seems to be working:

• Monitor how I’m feeling as I write. When I start nitpicking about sentences or whether or not the plot is going off the rails, it’s time to stop and take a breath. What I want is to write like a carefree little goober, not drown in perfectionism. Knowing when I slip from one into the other is the key to stopping it before it gets worse.

• When I’m drafting and end up lost in perfectionism, I find it best to just start tossing fetid shit on the page. Go hog wild and write the worst descriptions, the cringiest dialogue, and generally turn my draft into a receptacle of garbage. Forcefully evict perfectionism like a drunk at McDonald’s shouting at 3AM about how shite your plot structure is.

Ultimately, it comes down to self-awareness. If I’m aware of creeping perfectionism, I can take action and stop it getting out of hand. It’s worth here giving a shoutout to therapy. Just about everything they teach you in therapy is about monitoring your feelings and acting when you notice it getting out of whack. It’s the exact same skillset and has been incredibly useful for me in this regard.

In the spirit of killing perfectionism, I won’t have a proper conclusion here. Just the text equivalent of a shrug. Seeya.