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This column headline stinks and I’m... OK with that
By Ben Forrest
Friday April 11, 2008 Hemingway, the iconic American writer, once made an observation that should be taped to the computer monitor of anyone who attempts to write: "The first draft of anything is [excrement]."
The implication is, of course, that that no one should spend much time on a first draft. But this is a lesson I struggle to learn. Hours often go into my first drafts, and there is rarely time left over for a second or third.
I identify more closely with another famous saying of Hemingway's: "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."
As melodramatic as it sounds, writing a column can indeed feel like bloodletting, and the same is true of writing essays. Last week I spent the better part of three days crafting my final term paper as an undergraduate.
It still wasn't all that good, I still missed my deadline, and I still worry that it will not give me a passing grade.
The deadline was missed mainly because I managed only three paragraphs in about four hours the first day. Placing two sentences together was a struggle.
After the experience, I feel justified in altering Murphy's Law in this way: If writer's block can happen, it will – and usually when the status of a degree or diploma hangs in the balance.
At one point during my struggle I forced myself away from the keyboard, flopped down on a couch and breathed deeply. "It's really not worth getting this worked up," I told myself.
"A year from now, you'll wonder why you worried so much. Chances are, it will turn out okay."
Which helped. I pulled myself together and met my word quota for the day. But the next day perfectionism crept in again.
"This sentence is decent," I thought to myself as I typed, "but will it get me an 'A?' Likely not. How about if... nope, that won't do [Backspace, Backspace, Backspace]..." and so on, for hours.
At the outset of my university career, I convinced myself that perfectionism wasn't the character flaw someone once told me it was. Perfection might be an unobtainable goal, but it inspired me to do the best I could.
I am fond of clichés, and was convinced that by aiming for the stars, I was at least assured of reaching the moon. Ultimately, the moon was good enough.
But now, as I finish the final weeks of my studies, I have been rethinking the wisdom of such statements. Certainly, having high standards is a good thing, but standards that are too high can be both paralyzing and demoralizing.
If I resolve, for example, to work until I am a better actor than Matthew McConaughey, I will soon reach the goal. But if I decide I will never be happy until my physique (like his) is so staggering that society overlooks my flaws, happiness will never come.
At the end of every academic year, I have moments of lucidity that had escaped me for most of the previous eight months. This year, I believe I was meant to learn that molehills should remain molehills, and that I should allow myself to be human.
Moreover, I need to allow others to be human. My parents' generation believed that the world can be a better place, and I think they were on to something. A solid place to begin would be to accept the shortcomings of others, and begin to accept the imperfections we see in ourselves. |
