It used to be enough that I could spell

It speaks to my lackluster life when the most exciting part of it was finally thinking of a working title for my work in progress. "At 3:36 the World Stops" is taking me forever to finish. Part of it is my own inherent laziness, part of it is because I'm afraid I'm not getting the emotion that I want in it. That weighs on my mind.

I try to just get the story down. I try really hard to do that. Just get the story on paper and out of my head. But I've got this perfectionist thing in me and I find myself spending so much time trying to find the perfect word and not being satisfied.

I'm working on this. I know I shouldn't be satisfied with the first draft; I should just tell the story. The perfect word comes in the revisions. And though I know the revisions come next and that my revising skills are getting better and I'm getting more confident about it, I still can't shake the dissatisfaction of not getting the perfect word or feeling or clarity the first go round.

It's a constant struggle and I'm working on it. Sometimes I even think I'm getting better at it.