So, in the midst of feeling overwhelmed by the to-do list in my life, I had an odd thought: what if the work I’m doing actually is good enough?
I don’t mean this in a settling-for-mediocre, don’t-have-to-strive-to-improve-anymore sort of way. But as a writer–as a human being–it’s so easy to get focused on the things that are lacking and the things that are still to be done: the next step, the next improvement, the next bit of learning. But what if, without denying any of this; and without denying the imperfections inherent in any work either: what if the work I’ve done thus far (writing and everything else) really is good enough, is something to be proud of, without apology and without second-guessing and without fear?
Things shift, if one lets oneself believe this, in all manner of interesting ways.
And the work itself moves towards being more a thing done with joy and less a thing done with fear.