When I decided to become more active on this blog, I held a single mantra in my mind: Quantity over quality,
Wait a minute-you say- isn’t it “quality over quantity”?? In some cases certainly yes, but to a perfectionist “quality” becomes a burden. If I worried about each post being perfect, nothing would be published. For the most part, I proof-read each post just two or three times to make sure there aren’t any major issues, but otherwise once I’ve reached a conclusion, I deem it complete. I’ve had to smother my pride at some points, I’ve had to quiet the voice that says I can produce something far better than that, but I’ve listened to that voice for years and never finished anything because of it.
I’m currently waging another kind of war against my perfectionist nature. I’ve recently developed an obsession with looking at art journals on Pinterest, and I’m going crazy with inspiration to start my own. Unfortunately, the amount of artistic ability in me could fit in a single strand of my hair, and chances are good that that hair already fell out a long time ago. I can’t draw, I can’t paint, I don’t know how to create nice little doodles, and I most certainly don’t have the open chaotic brain that I imagine a person with the ability to make little pieces of art in their journal must possess. I have an orderly brain, one that can only work in straight lines. But what I do have is the awakenings of a power over words. I might not be able to ever fill my journals with cute little characters and drawings of the places I visit or foods that I eat, but I can create pictures with words.
Which brings me back to my mantra; one of the most necessary steps to mastering something is to practice. I could attempt to devote my time and energy to becoming better at drawing, but I’d be starting at square one. At least with writing, I’ve already had considerable practice over the years, as well as a baby confidence that I have the ability to craft some decent sentences once in a while.
So I want to harness that spark. I want to breath life into it and make it grow, and the only way I can do that is to set about to actually getting some practice in. I cannot get hung up on perfection. I must write and write and write, and even if only one in a thousand sentences contains a glimmer of remarkability, as time passes it might turn into one in a hundred sentences, or better.