Perfection

I want perfection from myself. I don’t expect it from anyone else, but from me, I want it. I wonder why that is? Especially, with my writing. I want every word perfect.

I’ve been writing all my life with a few breaks of steady writing due to…life. You know, that vast, beautiful wilderness desert of babies, diapers, railroad widowhood and early marriage poverty. I spent hours upon hours relearning typing, learning computers (kids are the best teachers for that and I had to raise them up to the age where I could absorb it by osmosis, time being what it was.) I had so much to learn to right at the level I wanted. I bought and studied the 1983 edition of How to Write a Romance and Get It Published by Kathryn Falk and devoured it cover to cover. I learned formatting and plotting and new computers. I took grammar workshops, struggled with wrestling time to write from all my sweet, loving, needy family members. I cried, fought, struggled and…

I’ve written about ten Western Historicals. Most are complete with only one more pass through needed to be ready for submission. So, why aren’t they out in the world? Why haven’t I been published? Maybe they just don’t cut it? They aren’t perfect and… truth is it’s mostly because I’ve been afraid they are not perfect. The timing was not perfect, for me or the world of publishing.

After all, I can’t begin to compete with the latest writing darling. I’m not the next Lavyrle Spencer, Penelope Williams, Jodi Thomas. The trend is not toward the Western Historicals and has not been for many years, but it is my favorite.

So…the writing wasn’t right. The timing wasn’t right. I wasn’t right. Thank goodness there were writers who didn’t care about all that. Thank goodness, there were writers who put their work out there. Writers like Kaki Warner, Jodi Thomas and Linda Lael Miller.

Perfection paralyzes.

One of the definitions in the Franklin Merriam-Webster Dictionary really struck me: an unsurpassable degree of accuracy or excellence. Unsurpassable. In other words, can’t be done.
What can be done is writing the best book I possibly can, taking a deep breath and sending it out in the world. I can work to improve, but realize I will never be perfect, but I’ll get better. And better is enough. Better is my personal best, at that time. Maybe, it will be enough to be published and maybe not, but it is certain not to be published if I don’t get the things out there.
As I wind down my final edit of Ellie and the Tie-down Man, and I listen to all the sobering news about the industry, I know my chances are slim, but I must try. For nothing more than myself. The goal has always been to get my work good enough to submit.

It’s a lot like fishing. My husband always wants to go fishing. When we do, he starts worrying about catching fish. I tell him, we were going fishing, not catching. That’s what I’m doing here. I’m casting the best bait I can write out there on the water and hope for a bit or two. But in the end it was really about the writing.