The allure of impossible standards

and the question beneath the question

This one is for all the perfectionists in the room.

I see you there in the back, notebook clutched to your heart, all your precious art contained and safe.

Perhaps you’d like to share what’s inside?

I see your shoulders rise at the invitation, terror radiating from every line of your body.

“It’s not ready yet,” you mumble.

When will it be ready?

My three favorite notebooks at present. No, you can’t see what’s inside.

I know. Oh, dear artist, how I know!

You love your work so much, yet perhaps you loathe it a little, too. You see its flaws with the precision of a microscope, exquisitely aware of all the ways your art is lacking. Your standards are impossible. You know they’re impossible yet you’re unable to release them. They’re comfortable, safe, a way to keep working on your art without fully admitting just how terrified you are of sharing it.

I know because I do it, too. I don’t know a single creative person who doesn’t.

Yet the question remains:

When will it be ready?

This, I think, is the question beneath the question:

When will you be ready?

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