I think that most writers can attest to the fact that the act of sitting down to write is no easy feat. On one hand, there is immense joy in creating something beautiful, and on the other, you are plagued with endless internal criticism and self-doubt. What if my writing is not good enough? What if the plot makes no sense?
I am obviously no exception.
As someone who used to write purely for joy, it is difficult to manage my own expectations and perfectionism. Sometimes I am so caught up in trying to please others that I lose sight of who I am really writing for: myself. That’s not to say that I don’t take feedback or believe that I can improve as a writer. In fact, I believe that a willingness to improve is a mark of a writer who is not swayed by perfectionism. Art was never meant to be perfect, only a work in progress.
For me, the most daunting part has been recognizing that not everything I write will be perfect. There will always be first drafts, second drafts, third drafts—and even then, nothing is ever complete. Through this process, I have not only learned how to be a writer but how to grow as an individual.
The satisfaction I obtain from writing is not about how eloquent the writing sounds—it’s about how freeing it is. When I express myself on paper, I see myself in all its imperfection: the good and the bad, and I transmute my flaws into art.
So yes, most writers will attest to the fact that sitting down to write is challenging. You are forced to confront all aspects of yourself through your work. But it is the struggle of the artist, the battle between joy and doubt, the search for something authentic in an increasingly hedonistic world, that renders writing so rewarding.
Spilled Ink 