I made a video that goes with this post!
That moment is what I love most about creating something new: the idea, the spark, the beginning, when what might have been was still what might be.—Hazel Hayes, Out of Love. Highlighted
That spark is really an amazing thing to experience. When the right one hits the tinder in your mind, it swells into a little campfire. You stay up all night, huddled over it, feeding it idea after idea to keep it alive. But you never give it firewood - you don’t nurture it enough to give it a life of its own. You keep it close to your heart, where it can’t threaten you, where it’s small and perfect and inconsequential. It keeps keeps you warm for a few quiet hours. Come morning time, it’s gone.
When I started to sense years ago that the process of nurturing that spark into a healthy flame means losing control, means losing the image of perfection you had for it in your head, I gradually learned to stop dreaming up big projects. I learned to stop trying. Why bother putting so much work into something that would never be as good as I imagined? I didn’t think any of this consciously, of course - in each moment, I’d just get overwhelmed with pressure to make the thing better. About six years ago, I stopped making YouTube videos and transitioned to making classes on video game development, motivated by a desire to produce “monetizable” content that would make me feel more productive. I made a few classes, and with each one I made, freeform creative expression became harder. My work had to make some money, had to be polished, and, increasingly, had to be perfect.
Here’s the thing: perfection doesn’t exist. I watch those classes now and see how wildly imperfect they are. The process of bringing an idea into the world makes it rough around the edges, like a frictionless asteroid flown recklessly through reality’s atmosphere. All that pressure to make something perfect, and it was never going to work anyway!
I watch and appreciate so many people who are willing to be seen learning and trying. Instead of aiming for perfection, I want to focus on gradual improvement and shameless self-expression. On making stupid and silly and rough and human things in spite of the pressure. As hard as it’ll be, I’ll try not to apologize for or justify their misshapen bits. People might see me. I’ll try to let them.
I realised that I wasn't failing at finishing. Starting things was part of my process. It was a way of whittling ideas down, giving each one a little air, a little water, seeing which would burrow furiously down into the earth and stop me from sleeping, and wilt in daylight.—Leena Norms, Half-Arse Human. Highlighted
