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Perfection Is a Lie
Your favorite character would be a total nightmare in real life—and that’s exactly why you love them. One thing I’ve noticed is that the characters I enjoy the most—the snarky, sarcastic, almost mean (but not quite) ones—they would be insufferable if you had to stand in line behind them at a Starbucks. If they weren’t sucking all the oxygen out of a room they’d be blowing it up or tearing it down.
And that’s okay. In fact, that’s what I like about them. My favorite characters are the ones who call out the jerks when I’m too tired. They kick the guy who kicked the cat—because someone has to. They aren’t afraid to take down the bad guys. And they don’t care who knows.
They aren’t perfect. And that’s how I like it.
Perfectly Boring
Perfection isn’t just overrated. It’s paralyzing. There’s nothing to learn from a perfect character. In fact, perfect characters can be psychically damaging. They become a measuring stick that we use to beat ourselves up with because we can never be as perfect as they are.
I just finished my latest work in progress: Silverlock - The Forging. It’s about a character who is the opposite of perfect. He is lazy and feckless. And when he is suddenly saddled with responsibility, he doesn’t know how to cope. So he makes bad decisions. Terrible decisions. Decisions no one can walk back from. I want to tell him, “Don’t give up—you make it through this.” But he doesn’t know that yet. So he keeps digging, deeper and deeper into the hole he made for himself." I love him even as I hate his actions. Because through it all, even as he pretends he doesn’t care, I know that deep down, he cares. He’s trying.
Perfectionism is Just Shyness with a Shiny Coat
Of course, writing is one of those creative pursuits that drives perfectionism. I like to think that I’m not a perfectionist. But then I look at my “novel drawer.” In that drawer are eleven novels or novellas. I’ve published one (you may have heard of it—Digital Dryad). I’m editing one (Druid Yourself Manual). And one of the novellas will be in my upcoming book of short stories (The Tree Who Lived). The other eight? I’ve written anywhere between 16K and 80K words for each of them. Why are they just sitting there waiting? I’m afraid they aren’t good enough for anyone to read. That’s almost 350 thousand words that I’ve carefully written …then shoved into a folder to die quietly under layers of self-doubt and backup copies.
One of the most frustrating parts of parenting is when you see your children make the same mistakes you made. Sometimes that can’t be helped, but it’s still upsetting. My son fights the perfectionist demon all the time. He’s smart, capable, and amazing. He designed the Dryadic language when he was in high school! I didn’t even know what Linguistics was in high school! But he’s still regularly paralyzed by the idea that he won’t do something 100% perfect.
And the world doesn’t help. All the stories of orphans with nothing going out and being amazing with just the shirt on their back. I remember when he was in fifth or sixth grade, he had to read an account of an American adventurer who left home when he was eleven! My son and I were both amazed at this idea that someone the same age as him could leave home and survive on his own. I think the teacher thought this would be inspiring for the kids, but my son was discouraged by it. After all, he hadn’t left home at eleven to trek to the north pole. And honestly I felt a bit of an underacheiver as well—being around fifty at the time and I still haven’t been to the north pole.
Hold My Cider: The Silverlock Method
That’s what we need more of—stories about people who are works in progress. Silverlock, especially in his first book—Silverlock: The Forging—is definitely that. If he is given a choice between a good decision or a bad one, he responds, “hold my cider,” and finds something even worse to do instead. In his second book, he might start looking for help. I don’t know yet. I only just finished book one!
But I hope that you will forgive him for being flawed. He does not break out of book one a perfect hero. And this might make some people upset. But I’m hoping that my readers will forgive him and me and give us both some grace as we find our way to “Silverlock the Peaceful” as he is known in Druid Yourself Manual.
Send the Work Anyway
I’m working with my son and myself to practice. Not to practice perfection, but to practice being imperfect.
For myself, I have expanded my newsletter to release some of that trapped fiction (350,000 words is a lot of words) into the world. It’s scary. And hard. And I’m forcing myself to do it. I hope my subscribers enjoy it—or at least don’t hate it.
If you want to read some imperfect fiction every other week, join now. Chances are you’ll read Silverlock’s journey there first—and I promise, he’s no hero yet. But maybe that’s the point.
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