Coming around edit number five, I am realizing one important thing. My novel will never be perfect. Ever. Good maybe but never perfect. Even if I think it’s perfect, other people won’t (actually I can guarantee loads of people will hate it). And I hardly doubt at the end of this I’ll be dancing around shouting it’s perfect. Lately though, I’ve been thinking shouldn’t art be imperfect? Isn’t that a key characteristic of great art? Gives it that certain je ne sais quoi?
So I’m not trying to be “perfect” in my edits anymore. In certain cases I think it takes away from my writing and my style. Lately, I find myself backtracking on certain edits because I catch myself trying to be “correct” and not myself. I keep thinking about how someone would judge my writing or even thinking of the books on writing I’ve read. For instance, I remember hearing/reading somewhere that using “swear words” in writing is lazy. But what if it adds to the character/the situation? So instead I’ve chosen to minimize it when it was a bit much and leave the rest dispersed throughout. This is one of the many adjustments I’ve made while editing. I’ve chosen not to strive for perfection and rather listen to my gut and feel my way to that final manuscript.
Now I’m left with this belief that I can be happy with (and can relax a little):
My novel can be good even great but it ain’t never going to be perfect.