They say that “practice makes perfect.”
And yet, I usually find myself skipping the “practice” part. If I don’t do it perfectly on the first attempt, more often than not, I’ll abandon the endeavour and never touch it again, and then begin the cycle anew. I always seem to forget that the majority of things have a learning curve, and always want to skip to the end of the lesson.
I’m trying to get better at this. But the issue is that I am also a perfectionist—and a master procrastinator.
If I’m not good at something right away, but it’s something that I have to do—like an essay, for example—I will usually put it off until the last possible minute. I’ll wait out the clock until I have no choice but to work on the paper, and while I still always get it done on time, I usually can’t achieve the “perfection” part. So, I started integrating the “perfection” part into the rough draft. I’ll go over minuscule details like specific word choices at a stage where I should be more concerned about the paper’s overall structure, and not the fine details that come at the last stage of editing. But this method meant that while I usually ended up with pretty clean first drafts, they took me significantly longer to create, and I still had to go back afterward and clean them up more, change some more words, combine two sentences… and so on.
It was a never-ending cycle.
But then I noticed something—I went back and looked over past projects. Previous essays, novels I created as a child, and the first ever crochet plushie I made. I compared them to what I was doing now and noticed vast improvement. The essays I wrote in first year, while fantastic for that level, would never be acceptable for a fourth-year course. The stories that I thought were so brilliant as a child look awful compared to what I write now. While I knew that the mutant frog plushie I crocheted back in August was not that good (it was supposed to be a regular frog), I can see how far I have come when I look at the turtle I crocheted a couple of weeks ago.
But they’re still not perfect.
It’s an impossible standard to hold yourself to,“perfection.” There are always ways to improve at something. There’s always at least one comma missed, one stitch too loose. I have always strived for “perfection” my entire life, and as proud as I might initially be at my final product, there is always something else I’m comparing it to, something that I deem to be the paragon of perfection that makes my work look lesser—but this is entirely subjective. It’s very likely that the person I’m comparing my work to is comparing their work to somebody else’s.
It’s an unhealthy way to live, and I have found that the phrase “practice makes perfect” often sits right at the centre of this vicious cycle. It contains the idea that if you practice often and hard enough, you’ll be able to achieve perfection—but lately, I’ve found myself thinking that maybe there’s no such thing as “perfection.” Even if you’re at the top of your game, there are always things you can do to improve, and always ways you can be better.
I’m reminded of something my fourth-grade teacher used to say to us: “Practice makes better, not perfect.”
I think that’s a healthier goal to work towards.