How to Keep Going When You Want Your Art to Be Perfect

It happened again last week.

I wrote my weekly email to my meager list of fellow artists, creatives, and makers. I ran the text through Grammarly to ensure I corrected all of my usual grammar and spelling mistakes. I copied the edited text to my e-newsletter site. I found an eye-catching image.

Then, I formatted the content with my signature ROYGBIV (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet) assortment of colorful, bolded text highlighting key points. Finally, I edited the subject line.

Boom. Finished. Send.

Then, the worst thing happened.

When I opened my email with a copy of this most recent message, I noticed a typo in the subject line. My stomach turned. My palms sweated. My mouth got dry.

"Oh no," I thought, "My readers are going to be all over this. They're going to email me about this egregious error. They will tell me to be more careful with my editing."

But here's what actually happened: Nothing. No one commented. No one contacted me. No one pointed out this silly mistake.

Am I relieved or disappointed?

Artists, makers, and creatives often battle the dichotomy between success and failure, love and hate, yes and no. Progress halts in the face of these contradictions. "If there is complete attainment of the original goal, the process terminates," wrote Teresa M. Amabile in Creativity in Context. "If there is a complete failure, if no reasonable response possibility has been generated, the process will also terminate."

With no reaction to my personal blunder of a typo in a subject line, I feel like no one cares—so why bother engaging in this constant battle to write, paint, sew, garden, or make furniture or clay pots?

Here's what usually happens when a creative creates, and their content isn't perfect:

• No one notices.
• Their viewer forgives the mistake.
• The creator gets the opportunity to interact with their audience when they do reply or post about the issue.

I remember attending a conference hosted by the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators. (Back when I was reading a ton of children's books to my own kids and thought, I can do that.)

The author could have been Jane Yolen (Owl Moon, How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight? and Big Bold Beautiful Me) or Patricia McLaughlin (Sarah, Plain and Tall), or someone else just as famous who said they had made a stupid mistake in a description in their book. Their editor, beta readers, and copy editors didn't see it.

The author had described a character's hair as "the color of Hubbard squash." Later, the author learned that Hubbard squash is a pale greenish-blue shade, and the color they were actually comparing the character's hair to was a lightish strawberry blond or, instead, the color of butternut squash.

Why no one noticed, I have yet to learn. But maybe that's because I grew up in the country. My mom's best friend lived on a farm where we often trudged through the fields harvesting foods like butternut squash (delicious) and Hubbard squash (also good, but a massive pain in the neck to peel and prepare). Both gourds have thick, inedible skin, but one is the size of your fist and arm, while the other is the size of a sleeping cat. (Hamish asked me to write that. He's currently curled up on the ottoman next to my feet.)

Maybe an early reader just accepted the color description as factual. After all, people have been dying their hair non-human-hair shades for decades. This character in this book would sport an unusual hair color. More than likely, no early reader noticed the mistake.

Deliberate Imperfection

The Amish are known for their "humility block" in their handsome quilts. They say that "Only God is perfect"; therefore, they purposefully make a mistake to acknowledge humanness.

The conventions and mechanics of writing dictate a set of rules specific to the English language and even more specific to the written word. But we can effectively communicate with unconventional spellings arranged outside the parameters of the visual text.

Here's an example:

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

This stanza appears as the opening lines of Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky in the 1871 novel Through The Looking-Glass. The poem describes the execution of a foe, the Jabberwocky, and the hero's return.

The reader does not need to know what "brillig" might be. Still, they can imagine a time reference or an indication of the atmosphere. Could brillig be morning, dusk, a minute after midnight, or foggy, quiet, a battlefield?

The words "slithy toves" sound like slithering or slippery, but what is a tove? "Gyre" and "gimble" indicate movements or a precarious nature. Ultimately, though, the reader does not have to know the exact meaning of any of these words but can still, in a sense, understand the meaning.

The same can be noticed when reading Shakespeare. The language may be different, and Shakespeare was known for making up words and spellings. Still, if the audience relaxes and lets the action unfold, they will understand each play's plot and theme.

Hooz wuds deze r eye tinq eye no

They hous iz n da village tho;

Teh won't sea mee stoppin hear

2 wach hiz wodz phil oop wid sno.

Every word is misspelled, but the meaning comes through nonetheless.

And please, Mr. Robert Frost, forgive my bastardizing your beautiful words.

Ah yes, there's the very thing beautiful.

Not all art is beautiful. Nor should it be.

We create art to challenge conventions to force the audience to feel.

Indeed, the flub of my typo was not intentional, or was it?

Creativity is often defined as 'novel but useful.'

Spelling has evolved much over the centuries of the written word. Word usage comes and goes. Having fun with language—now that's something we might all benefit from.

Indeed, throughout the history of the story, characters have engaged in wordplay. In The Rivals, Richard Brinsley Sheridan's character, Mrs. Malaprop, delights the audience with her constant spoonerisms: "He is the very pineapple of politeness" and "She's as headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile."

All art forms have their standards

Below are just three suggested criteria for the seven art forms:

• Literary art- genre, length, audience
• Visual art- composition, color, medium
• Fiber art- texture, construction, fit
• Environmental art- height, style, arrangement
• Performing art- stage, medium, genre
• Industrial art- material, purpose, finish
• Culinary art- taste, texture, plating

The next time you hesitate to create for fear of doing it wrong, try this:

• Give yourself permission to make a mistake.
• Intentionally challenge the parameters of your art form.
• Know the rules and push the boundaries. (Think of e.e. cummings, or Picasso, or Eminem.)

And then wait.

Did anyone notice?

Did they complain to you or compliment you on your bold choice?

Chances are, no one will say anything.

But if they do, they will see you as the true artist that you are.

Gho fourth end conker, mi frendz.