A friend of mine recently recommended CJ the X’s wonderful 7 Deadly Art Sins video, and in watching it I felt in equal measures seen and called out. Quite a few of their sins spoke to personal experiences I’d had in my art journey, but one stood out above them all.

My greatest art sin is Greed, which CJ also calls Preciousness and Perfectionism.

Early in my writing career, I was one of those first-draft-only writers, a bad habit from my time in academics that rarely gave me time to develop an idea past my first reaction to an essay prompt. When I came to my creative endeavors, it carried over. I wrote first drafts, hated them for their imperfections, and threw them out and started something new. Embracing redrafting was a significant turning point in my writing arc. I finally came around to the idea that not only was redrafting essential, but it was an opportunity to take things in a very new direction and better capture what the first draft fell flat on, I thought that was it. I was now a real writer, not beholden to my first idea. 

But I never really let go of the perfectionism that had me throwing out those old drafts. I just found a new tool to prevent finishing: endlessly drafting and redrafting to chase the version that was not just the best version it could be, the best version anything could ever be. Preciousness with my writing made me unwilling to discuss it too much with people, except to tool out what needed to be rewritten. The constant, cycling thought was that this draft will be it, I’ll clean up all the messes and incorporate the vastly different feedback I’d gotten from readers to make something perfect, at last.

I rewrote this article twice before finally posting it. I reread and replanned an edit to a dystopian vigilante novel that I shelved it permanently, because the number of changes needed felt so vast. I never finished a robot lesbian Sci-Fi because the first draft was so far from what I hoped. I have countless unfinished stories awaiting another pass because it just isn’t ready yet. I’m on the fifth draft of a novel I’ve been working on for three years. Its sequel took three attempts to start because I kept rewriting the outline.

I keep searching for someone else’s approval to tell me I’m finished, to sign off on my work as ‘good enough’ and allow me to call myself a ‘real’ writer. I simultaneously can’t take any criticism, and long for it, like a creative masochist. The thought being that if I can just get someone to tell me all the things wrong with it, I can keep tinkering, remove all the blemishes, and ensure that what I’ve created is exactly what I mean, and nothing else.

It was then that CJ’s video rang in my head, with the perfectly crafted call-out that struck right at my heart:

“You’re not perfecting your craft; you’re shielding yourself from vulnerability.”

-CJ the X, 7:11-7:14

Ouch.

But exactly what I needed to hear.

Declaring something as finished, as a greedy writer, felt like declaring it open season for critique, from anyone. People who get exactly what I have to say, and people who really don’t.

I already knew that I was never going to be an author that would enjoy reading Goodreads reviews on my work, nothing peeves me more than reading reviews that refuse to meet a work where it’s at (I got a taste of it reading reviews of Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke after writing mine. Nothing makes me angrier than someone so determined not to like something that they don’t actually engage with it, yet feel the need to project their thoughts far and wide), but in framing it as an issue of vulnerability, CJ hits the nail on the head about perfectionism in excess. 

The fear of being judged doesn’t help anyone make better art. We live in an ungenerous time for artists. Between the idea that a computer can do it better and the shrinking media literacy that rewards a hot take before an authentic one, perfection is demanded. It’s never been easier to be precious with art, but when you try to make something perfect (or ‘internet-proof’ as I’ve joked about before) you end up with an overwritten mess that tries so hard to prevent wrong interpretations that it leaves nothing for the reader to do. 

So what’s a poor writer to do, to try to overcome overwhelming art greed? I’m still figuring that out, but here are a few things that have made a big difference in my mindset already:

• Letting go of my need to appeal to everyone. Easier said than done, but knowing that I’m often a fan of art that doesn’t appeal to everyone is a good reminder of this point.
• Remembering what I like about writing. My ability to interpret something, to connect with it without being told how to, and feel myself align with a story, especially ones that don’t have universal appeal, reminds me that there are readers who will connect with my work—but I’ll never find them by sanding down my voice.
• Reminding myself that perfection is literally unattainable. Pretending there’s some elevated level of true art that is above judgment, where something internet-proof is possible, doesn’t help anyone.  

I want to make good art. But having my own opinion on what good is doesn’t prevent me from being a true, objective artist. Chasing that ideal is a whole other type of perfectionism. I’d rather write something I like, and actually finish it, even if it doesn’t have universal appeal (especially in this universe), than be stuck in rewrite purgatory forever.

I’m still toiling on my rewrite, but I’m going to put more energy into diversifying—writing more pieces that I can finish and put out there. I’ve got some short pieces I’ve been sitting on because they don’t feel good enough, but they’re good enough for me.

I’ve made some great friends who do get what I’m going for—and I’m going to keep trusting them, and add some respectful skepticism to the bad reviews. It’s okay if not everyone gets it.

Which of CJ the X’s Art Sins do you struggle with?
How do you deal with perfectionism?

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash