mzalen, Wed, June 18th, 2008
The term “perfectionist” is applied way too loosely nowadays. For me, I started using it when I first began thinking about professional cartooning. And to an extent, I was justified.
Back then, a little over ten years ago, I would fill spiral notebooks with ideas, jotting down dialogue and matching certain words or lines with quick sketches of facial expressions which I felt captured the moment perfectly. I would sit on the ideas awhile – sometimes a few days, other times weeks or months – then I would go back, rework the words, smooth things out, and then draw a rough draft. The draft I would show to a small group of friends and family whose humor I trusted to be a good barometer for the general population, and I would gauge their reactions. If it was good, I would use the comic; if their reaction was less than enthusiastic, I would go back and start the whole process again.
It drove me mad, but I didn’t care because I wanted things to be perfect.
For the better part of the past decade I continued with this routine. I filled notebook after notebook, refined my ideas, and occasionally even took the time to ink what I assumed would be a final version. With the material I had stored up, I felt like I was set for years. And then something changed. I started getting published.
Very quickly after my first comic hit newspaper stands did I realize that much of the old material was either not relevant for my current comic strip, or would have to be entirely reworked in order to fit the new theme and characters. The problem was that I no longer had the time necessary to do this.
I imagine that two things could happen to a perfectionist when confronted with this kind of situation, and one of them eventually involves psychiatric care.
I once had an English teacher in high school who tried to emphasize the virtue of excellence by telling us a story about a poem which she submitted to a magazine. She stood up in front of our class and described how she agonized for weeks over the decision of whether to include or omit a semi-colon at the end of one sentence. A semi-colon. I often thought that the woman was insane, but for me this was proof.
Which brings me back to the beginning of this blog.
What exactly does it mean to be a “perfectionist?” To work at something until it is absolutely perfect? If that were true, then my former English teacher would have qualified as a perfectionist. But she was also crazy.
It makes me wonder how often the term is confused. After all, isn’t being a perfectionist just another, fancier way of saying obsessive-compulsive? I would be the first to admit that some of my behavior regarding my comics bordered on obsessive-compulsive. And yet, that same behavior could just as easily be described as perfectionism.
The irony is that it took being a perfectionist to get to the point of publication and positive recognition. Yet once there, it was physically and emotionally impossible for me to continue being a perfectionist.
I said earlier that I think two things could happen to a perfectionist when faced with deadlines. I believe that my former English teacher demonstrated one possible outcome. She continued being a perfectionist, and eventually got to the mental state where she freely and publicly admitted her obsession with a semi-colon. I’d say that my experience is an example of the other possible outcome.
It’s called letting go.
Looking back, a little more pressure and a few more deadlines would’ve done me a lot of good. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if, had I had that, I would’ve been five years ahead of where I am now. But alas, such is the nature of dreams. No one is going to force you to realize them.
There. This blog is perfect. Now I’m done.
Cheers,
Matt
