{"id":5634,"date":"2015-01-15T14:51:33","date_gmt":"2015-01-15T20:51:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/?p=5634"},"modified":"2015-01-15T14:51:33","modified_gmt":"2015-01-15T20:51:33","slug":"perfect-writing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/2015\/01\/15\/perfect-writing\/","title":{"rendered":"Perfect Writing"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Calipers\"<\/a>I’ve struggled with the idea of perfection in life.<\/p>\n

In juggling, in writing, and other things that mattered to me, I fixated on a perfection I’m not sure exists. It’s a nice thought that I can finish a piece of something perfectly before moving on to my next thing, but in my life, I’ve only witnessed a few moments in 45 years that were “perfect.”<\/p>\n

The thing is, even in those moments, others would not have seen the moments as perfect. What I deem perfect writing — others have found boring. What others have told me is perfect — I’ve seen as terrible. In my own writing, the stories that seem most perfect to me are often those others don’t see that way; in fact, there have been times I’ve shown people things I cranked out and knew needed more work, but was told, “This is perfect! This is the best thing you’ve ever written!”<\/p>\n

A high school friend (a designer), shared this video on his Facebook page this morning — I like some of the points made about perfection:<\/p>\n