Impatience is not a good quality to have as a writer. Trust me, I know. Being a writer means putting yourself into positions that require extreme patience, because everything we do requires a painful amount of waiting. Waiting for my website to go live. Waiting to receive the next round of edits. Waiting for my beta readers to tell me that my novel is the best one they’ve ever read. Always waiting. And I detest that.

So with a vast amount of self control, I fight the urge to put up a website that still isn’t ready for mobile access, to release unedited content, or to call up my beta readers and demand that they fall at my feet whilst praising my writing. It’s a daily struggle, but I have made it so far without succumbing to any of these temptations. And that’s because I am not only impatient, but also a perfectionist.

Perfectionism is not a good quality to have as a writer. Trust me, I know. Being a writer means putting yourself into positions that require you to relax, sit back, and say, “It’s good enough.” The formatting for my website. My WIP that’s been through five rounds of edits. My beta readers holding a piece of my soul. It’s art. It’s not supposed to be perfect. I’m supposed to let go. And I detest that.

So through a great deal of focus and intentional relaxation, I fight the urge to spend months poring over a perfectly functional website, to make a tenth round of edits, and to imagine all of the horrendous things my readers will say about my novel because of a single misplaced comma. And the one thing holding me back from hiding in my office and withering away as I make sure everything is good enough, is that I’m also very impatient.

If you spent a day in my mind, you would witness the perpetual conflict between the impatience and the perfectionism. But somehow, it always finds a way to balance out in the end. Trying to explain this process is a little bit like inviting someone backstage during the intermission at a play. There’s a table with an assortment of cowboy hats on top, with a body bag prop underneath, all ready to be used in act three. The stage manager has everything under control and shouldn’t have to explain anything, but nonetheless, always feels the urge to reassure everyone, I’m not crazy, I swear.