I love writing.
(Can you please love me back?)
But it takes so long. I always underestimate how much time I need to write something. And more so when I have to edit anything.
Sometimes I think it’s just me. I need to find that perfect word. That sentence has to be just right. I’m seeking that ideal ending.
I’m such a peculiar perfectionist when it comes to writing. Less so blogging. For many, hopefully obvious reasons.
I guess the more you love something, the more you want everything about it to be perfect. Perfect in your head, in your heart. Perfect to you. Because who cares if it’s not perfect to someone else?
I know school isn’t always enjoyable, but I hope you never take learning for granted.
The school system isn’t perfect, but neither are you. So stop trying to be perfect. Don’t be that hard on yourself. You’re supposed to make mistakes and learn from them. If you aren’t, then you should be worried.
While we’re on the topic of worrying, just remember there’s only so much you can control and so much more that you can’t. Control what you can.
You can do something right now to close the gap between where you are at this very moment and where you want to be in a week, a month, a year. Do it. Don’t wait. Don’t procrastinate.
Even when you’re busy, especially when you’re busy, take some time for yourself. Do something you enjoy doing. Read. Write. Sing. Dance.
It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Breathe. Eat. Sleep. Allow yourself to live. Let yourself have a life.
School isn’t forever. What you’re going through isn’t either. Take it day by day. If one entire day gets to be too much, take it hour by hour. Minute by minute.
I don’t personally know you, but I wish you the very best. You have what it takes to tackle any and every challenge coming your way. Also just about everyone I know who isn’t in school anymore wishes they could be. So enjoy your school years.
Please don’t ever stop learning.
From one life long learner to another,
National Novel Writing Month never fails to sneak up on me.
I’m not ready. Obviously.
But I’m going into November reminding myself that:
It’s not about winning.
You win if you write. 10 words. 10,000 words. 100,000 words.
It’s not about being perfect.
Perfection is overrated. You’re not perfect. So don’t try to be.
It’s not about the word count.
You are a writer. Not a mathematician. Numbers don’t matter.
I somehow survived my first year of university and will go into my second very soon.
But there are some things I wish I could’ve told the girl I was a year ago.
- You’re a human.
- Don’t expect perfection, just work on execution.
- You’re a human being.
- Don’t let your ego get bigger than your eye.
- You’re a flawed human being.
In an ideal world, the italicized sentences would come true. The bolded ones reveal the not so perfect reality. Read at your own peril.
Generate twenty new ideas for future blog posts.
Generate zero ideas.
Write five articles at once.
Write one sentence before deleting it.
Edit nine previous drafts.
Groan because editing is too much work.
Proofread seven pieces.
Publish new post.
Not publish anything for a month.
Read everything in your Reader.
Read one word only to get distracted by some shiny new video on YouTube.
Leave a comment on the blogs you follow.
Take forever to come up with a witty remark.
Find more amazing bloggers to follow.
Cry at everyone else’s awesomeness.
Bathe in money at the end of the day.
Bathe in your own tears.
A mall without a bookstore is like a school without a library.
Okay, that wasn’t the perfect comparison. You can’t expect me to be perfect all the time. Contrary to what some people believe, I am human.
As a lover of words though I wish bookstores and libraries were everywhere. In every mall, in every school, in people’s homes.
But I guess the world isn’t perfect either.
Because every so often I go back and improve what I’ve written. It isn’t perfect yet, but I hope the character development is getting there. The original can be found here.
The girl paced back and forth in front of the door. She had been told it was open.
She wiped her sweaty palms on the nicest dress she owned. More blood rushed to the apples of her cheeks.
Opening this door would knock down an endless row of dominos. The other possibility, leaving the door unopened, seemed like the more favourable option. However, this time, she had something to prove.
At the thought of walking away, her stomach did back flips. That’s how she knew her decision was already set in stone.
Although the young girl knew what stood beyond this door, she did not know the full details. The image she conjured in her mind was a vague outline of a face with no features. Not knowing hurt more, she realized, than being lied to.
An uneventful half hour of contemplation passed.
Her internal organs felt like they were clawing their way upwards. She realized she couldn’t delay her wait any longer.
Every so often, someone would tell her to expect the best.
But with one shaky hand on the metal door and the other on the knob, she prepared for the worst.
I need to stop being a perfectionist.
Perfecting projects is a serious time-consumer, mood-killer, and joy-sucker.
Although I’m still in high school, if you asked me what I would have done differently as a teenager, hands down I would say:
I WISH I STOPPED TRYING TO MAKE EVERYTHING PERFECT.