Perfectionism 187
Killing my perfectionist inner editor one short story at a time.
My inner editor is a tyrannical ass-clown. I've spent years kowtowing to his brutal criticism and chasing perfection — grinding my novel projects to a fine powder and puzzling them back together again.
Whether rooted in my ADHD wiring or garden-variety anxiety, the why no longer matters to me. I'm not going to devote any more time to understanding my writerly defects. As a chronic over-thinker, I've done enough navel-gazing. It's time for action. It's time to put him down. It's time to establish a rhythm of finishing.
Moving forward, I'm going to post weekly on my fiction site and its Substack mirror. Every time I smack the Publish button on an imperfect post, my inner editor will die a little bit more.