I hate new notebooks. They’re too perfect. Especially when the paper is nice.
There’s a sinking anxiety that whatever I may create, it won’t compete with how satisfying a blank piece of paper already is. Rather than seeing a new wad of possibility, all I think about is the likelihood of me falling short of genius, and inevitably spilling some coffee.
After all, our heroes made do with less — and seemingly won the world over.
Here I am, scratching my ass, figuring out how to make my best work yet. Four corners of clean white paper, looking back at me:
“You better get this right”
See, that’s a dangerous game to be in.
Especially when experimenting or starting something new.
The idea of “I need to make this work” is where the paralysis is. Because here’s the deal: we can’t compete with perfection.
What I think we forget, is the work we admire isn’t perfect at all.
It’s often too much or too little. It risks being wrong for some people in order to make an impact for a few. Perhaps it’s even a little dangerous for its time, and it was almost certainly not easy to make.