When I finished the eighteenth draft of my first article, I knew I couldn’t improve it. Today I could, but that was the best I could do then. An editor or someone else might make it better, or in another year I might have developed my skills enough to make it better. But not then.
To myself I said aloud, "This is the best I can do at this stage of my development." I still repeat those words before I send in a manuscript. It’s my way to let it go.
Someone told me, "I have to decide if I will release my imperfect manuscript or hold on to the perfect manuscript inside my head."
To myself I said aloud, "This is the best I can do at this stage of my development." I still repeat those words before I send in a manuscript. It’s my way to let it go.
Someone told me, "I have to decide if I will release my imperfect manuscript or hold on to the perfect manuscript inside my head."
When I can say,
"This is the best I can do at this stage of my development,"
I give myself permission to stop.
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