The Pursuit of Perfection

A finished project is better than a perfect plan.

Morgan Housel sold over four million copies of “The Psychology of Money”. When asked about his writing and editing process, he explains how he pretty much never edits his work and hits publish the moment he gets to the bottom of his essay. His philosophy is that perfection is a myth, so instead of obsessively editing the essay again and again, he just makes sure that it’s good enough.

During his days at The Wall Street Journal, his work would go through multiple rounds of editing. He noticed that the first editor would change about 80% of the article and make it perfect. Until it was the turn of the next editor who would again change large chunks to make it perfect. The process would go on but in reality, perfection was never achieved.

When we plan a project, we tend to have a clear idea of how it’ll look in the end. The masterpiece with strokes of perfect curvature and colors with just the right contrast. But when we actually pick up the paint brush, we are hit with reality. The strokes aren’t landing quite right and the red is a bit too red.

In moments like these, the pursuit of perfection becomes our enemy. Sure it pushes us to improve our skills, fix the problems and work harder. But even after the best of our efforts, if the painting does not look the way we imagined, we tend to quit and never show it to the world.

The philosopher Costica Bradatan illustrates the point by means of a fable about an architect from Shiraz in Persia who designed the world’s most beautiful mosque: a breathtaking structure, dazzlingly original yet classically well proportioned, awe-inspiring in its grandeur yet wholly unpretentious. All those who saw the architectural plans wanted to buy them, or steal them; famous builders begged him to let them take on the job. But the architect locked himself in his study and stared at the plans for three days and nights — then burned them all. He might have been a genius, but he was also a perfectionist: the mosque of his imagination was perfect, and it agonized him to contemplate the compromises that would be involved in making it real. Even the greatest of builders would inevitably fail to reproduce his plans absolutely faithfully; nor would he be able to protect his creation from the ravages of time — from the physical decay or marauding armies that would eventually reduce it to dust. Stepping into the world of finitude, by actually building the mosque, would mean confronting all that he couldn’t do. Better to cherish an ideal fantasy than to resign himself to reality, with all its limitations and unpredictability.

Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks

Let’s admit, we all suffer from perfectionism to some extent. Every time I want to do it just right, I feel paralyzed. Every time I’ve seen someone obsessing over unnecessary details, they quit the project wholly.

The solution is to always let go of your imaginary outcome. As Morgan does, try your best and get the project to a good enough state. If you can’t go any further, just hit publish. That’s what I do with every issue of this newsletter ;)

Good night,
Aachman

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