Embrace Imperfection
Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good.
“If you think good work is somehow synonymous with perfect work, you are headed for big trouble. Art is human. Error is human. Ergo, art is error. Inevitably, your art will be flawed. Why? Because you’re a human being, and only human beings, warts and all, make art. Without warts, it's not clear what you would be, but clearly you wouldn’t be one of us.”
-David Bayles & Ted Orland; "Art & Fear"
A ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing his class into two groups. The group on the left would be judged solely on the quantity of work they produced. All those on the right would be judged solely on quality. On the last day of class, the professor would bring in a scale and weigh the art produced by the quantity group — 50 lbs of pottery equaled an “A”, 40 lbs a “B,” and so on. Those judged based on the quality of their work needed to produce only one pot, but it had to be perfect to get an “A.”
On the last day of class, a curious fact emerged. The works of highest quality were all made by the group graded on quantity. While the quantity group was busily churning out piles of work and learning from their mistakes, the quality group sat around theorizing about perfection. Come grading time, the quality group had little to show for their work other than grandiose theories and lumps of unformed clay.
This anecdote is from one of my favorite books on the rewards and perils of making art. Fittingly, it’s a short book that doesn’t waste time making its points—many of which have stuck with me over the years, but perhaps none more so than the above anecdote.
“Move fast. Blow things up. Repeat.”
-Elon Musk
I was reminded of this story recently while reading Walter Isaacson’s biography of Elon Musk. In Chapter 18, “Musk’s Rules for Rocket Building,” the chapter begins with mention of the fact that Elon Musk was concerned with costs when it came to building rockets—not least because he was risking his own money on the business. Also, for him to realize his ultimate goal of getting humans to Mars, he knew efficiency would be key. Interestingly, despite his watchful eye on costs, when it came time to test rockets, Musk’s direction to his engineers was, “learn by failing.” He took an iterative approach to design. Rockets and engines would be quickly prototyped, tested, blown up, revised, rebuilt, and tested again until they figured out what didn't work.
In most cases, the cost of making most art doesn't compare to building rockets, yet so many artists are afraid to fail. Afraid to make mistakes. This is how we learn what works. I've been wrestling with this myself for years, trying to always do things "right" the first time. It’s not only fear of failure; it's that not making mistakes seems easier, like it will take less of my time, and thus get me to the finish line sooner. But that’s not the goal. The goal is to make something of quality. As the ceramics teacher showed his students, quality often emerges from making a lot of something.
With writers, this discussion often centers around revising, editing, and having the courage to write bad first drafts—an advice I highly recommend. I find that one of the impediments to many scripts in development at studios, networks, and streamers is that there isn't room for this kind of failure and further exploration. Executives and producers, whose job it is to see a project through to completion and ensure they get the best finished product, are understandably concerned with deadlines. Not to mention, there are large costs associated with making movies or TV shows (though not really with developing scripts), and time is money. This system, while perhaps a necessary evil given the practical realities of production and the fiscal constraints of the industry, hampers getting the best version of a script. The most successful screenwriters are often those who don't make fewer mistakes, but who manage to move past them more quickly on their own, figuring out what works and what doesn't. Some achieve this through outlining, others through consistent and voluminous word counts, and still others through methods unique to themselves and their process.
The point is that the goal should not be to make fewer mistakes or, worse, to think you must make no mistakes at all if you are to be successful. Rather, it is to embrace imperfection and incorporate it into your process. Doing so will not only free you from the insecurities that plague anyone attempting to create something original, which slows us down or prevents us from completing our work, but also knowing that embracing your imperfections in your art is what will allow you to make the best art you are capable of at the time.