Two Drafts Down...

I finished the second of my four essays yesterday. Or maybe I should say I finished the first of four essays, since the first essay is still at first draft stage, but my GOAL was to complete DRAFTS of four essays, so I think actually FINISHING essay #2 was going above and beyond the call of duty.

What do I mean, “finished”?

I mean it's too late to fix it. I got to the point, yesterday, where I was happy with what I'd written, and it felt done, and I submitted it.

Then, AFTER I had already submitted it, I emailed it to a few writers I know, saying I'd be delighted to listen to any feedback they might care to give, now that it was too late to change anything.

This is the feedback I got (I'm giving approximations, here, not direct quotes):

Person 1: I think it's beautiful and perfect and I'm not just saying that because you can't change anything.

Person 2: I enjoyed your essay – I felt like I could have been you.

Person 3: I was worried I wasn't going to like it at first, but then, as it went on, I liked it more.

Person 4: You said everything you needed to say.

Person 5: Kudos on how you tied things together – I wasn't sure where that first story was going, but then you came back to it near the end, and that kind of resolution is pleasing to a reader.

This was all kind of weird to me, because, having already submitted the piece, I felt pleased and honored that my writing friends had taken the time to read my essay, but I was oddly detached from what they had to say about it. Not that I didn't care, just that there was nothing hinging on their approval, you know? I had already let it go.

I was connected just enough to what it WOULD have felt like to get that feedback on something I was thinking of as a draft to realize that I was REALLY GLAD I'd submitted it before soliciting people's opinions.

Overall, the responses were certainly positive, but I know myself: I would have seized on those two comments that implicated the beginning (“I was worried I wasn't going to like it at first” and “I wasn't sure where that first story was going”) and I would have decided I needed to scrap my beginning and start over some other way. Probably I would have futzed about with that first couple of pages for a couple of weeks, until they morphed into something that didn't fit the rest of the essay at all, and by that time, the whole project would have been down the tubes, the submission deadline would have passed, and I would have had yet another “almost done” essay gathering virtual dust in my documents folder on the computer.

I'm starting to see that I have been using other people's opinions as an excuse not to finish. I've been sabotaging myself, on a regular basis, by focusing on getting it right rather than getting it done.

What I realized yesterday was that getting it done WAS getting it right (meaning that it FELT right to me), and that getting it “right” had actually been code for getting it perfect.

I hope I will someday get to the point where I can use other people's opinions in the spirit I think they're usually offered: as a help and not a hindrance. Until then, I will respect my own limitations.