The Perfect Excuse: How I Used Perfectionism as Procrastination (and Passed it off as Writer's Block)
Today, we’re going to talk about writer’s block, a common and universal dilemma that afflicts all writers at some point in their lives. Let’s delve into my own experience, why it took me 20 long, arduous years to finish my debut novel, and how we can shift our perspective to defeat the monster that is writer’s block.
WRITER’S BLOCK (N.) A MYTHICAL BEAST OF LEGEND NATIVE TO YOUR WRITING DESK
Here’s the thing. Writer’s block is almost a mythological beast at this point, one which strikes fear into the hearts of writers and the depths of their souls quake at the very mention of it, like Lord Voldemort or Bloody Mary. We fear that it will snatch us in its claws and tear us away from all the ideas we had plotting.
What’s interesting is that writer’s block actually inhabits our brain along with our ideas, and how we think either keeps the cage of torment closed or opens it wide. Nothing is more inhibiting than our own brains when it comes to our ability to write. Our pessimism, imposter syndrome, inferiority complex, thoughts of hopelessness—these are the things that open the cage for the monster that is Writer’s Block. The one thing that keeps it open and makes it nearly impossible to close: perfectionism.
PERFECTIONISM OR HOPELESSNESS—THEY ARE ONE AND THE SAME
Back in the day, when I was just getting my feet wet while writing Creed of Legends, I was an avid reader and writer. I had all kinds of ideas floating around in my head, and I was desperate to get them penned to paper. My reading fed my creative energies. The world was my oyster. But then I went to college, and that oyster shell closed shut. The stresses of university and the focused attention I had on my studies dampened my ability to use my energies to be creative. Instead, I wrote 12-page papers on moral philosophy and English literature. Not to say these things didn’t interest me immensely, but I was so preoccupied with getting perfect grades, and I neglected the part of me that made my heart soar.
The only creative pursuit I didn’t struggle with at that time was fan fiction. Fan fiction allowed me to create a story without the energy and focus it took to create the world and characters, too. It was a way for me to stretch my creative muscles and keep them toned enough—just enough—so that I didn’t lose (or lose interest in) my talent entirely.
Then I was diagnosed with Bipolar and GAD, and my mental health became my primary focus, even more so than finishing university. I dropped out of school and endeavored to restrict myself to survival mode. Stability over creativity. Reality over imagination. It was a hard way to live for someone who is INFP and a deeply artistic thinker.
During this long hiatus from writing, I tried multiple times to reconnect with my craft. I used fan fiction as an outlet, but I wanted to develop the story I had started so long ago—a story that I had fallen in love with. But every time I put pen to paper or placed my hands on the keyboard to start again, I faltered. I would write a sentence, look at it for a long time, and think: This? This is the best I can do? And I would stand up and walk away. My perfectionist brain didn’t even give myself a moment to consider that it wasn’t the best I could do, and that I was capable of growth. I allowed myself to be led by the false belief that if I wasn’t as good as my favorite authors (who were not only much older and wiser than I was but had much more time to develop their writing skills), it wasn’t even worth trying. Hopelessness set in, and it opened the cage of Writer’s Block, and the beast emerged, teeth bared.
If I had given myself a little bit of grace, maybe I could have developed my writing and gotten to the point where I took pride in my work. But perfectionism reared its ugly head and urged the beast out of its cage. And I spent the next 8 years struggling to string a couple of sentences together.
Perfectionism is a hard habit to break. And yes, I use the term “habit,” and not character flaw, because I now have the hope and understanding that perfectionism CAN be broken. It’s a habit that we unknowingly and destructively use against ourselves, permitting us to use procrastination as a means to an end—the end of our writing careers (or at least a very long hiatus). Think I’m overreacting?
Perfectionism leads to hopelessness and the fear that our writing will never be good enough to please the masses—so why even bother trying?
Well, this is where that shift in perspective needs to come into play to close the cage on Writer’s Block and keep it locked away.
PERFECTION IS HOGWASH—FIND THE COURAGE TO FREE YOURSELF FROM YOUR OWN EXPECTATIONS (AND EVERYONE ELSE’S)
I have a quote in the bio on my website: “It took an unbelievably long time for me to come to a resignation […]: allowing myself to write for the simple pleasure of writing with the knowledge that failure was absolutely irrelevant.”
Failure in writing is the belief that your work is either (1) not perfect, or at least (2) not good enough when measured against others, or (3) that no one will like it. What an odd unit of measurement we use, huh? If Writer’s Block is the beast of myth, Comparison is the beast’s claws. It’s what Writer’s Block uses to kick us while we’re down, to re-open the wounds we have already inflicted on ourselves.
That is why I say that failure, and all that it encompasses, is absolutely irrelevant to the writing process. You are a writer. Your creative energies are not misused if you write imperfectly, if your writing is not as good as X, or even if no one likes what you wrote. A shocking admission? Not really; not if you really think about it. Everyone has to start somewhere, and if you allow Comparison to rip you apart, you aren’t allowing yourself to grow—you’re keeping yourself stuck beneath the weight of the Writer’s Block beast, suffocating not only your growth but also your spirit.
If you cannot adhere to the suggestion of ignoring failure, maybe you’ll be more apt to consider allowing yourself freedom. If you can allow yourself to write for the simple pleasure of writing and not to please others, you will find a creative freedom that gives Perfectionism the boot and sheaths the claws of Comparison. In other words, just write. No expectations, no delays, no need to feel inferior or doubt your own abilities or make up excuses. Just write. Cultivate the courage to put everything else aside and write the thing, because passion for writing is where it all started for you, isn’t it? Passion is what you need to let loose. Letting your passion run wild is the only way to cage the beast of Writer’s Block.
Once I made passion my priority and thought of failure as extraneous, I was able to write a book in 10 months when I had “Writer’s Block” for the previous 8 years.
Give the following some thought, but don’t ruminate too much (or you might just talk yourself out of trying):
