Below is the version history of this column’s original opening line, which I abandoned after completely reworking the draft.
The first column I wrote, titled “As a High Schooler,” went through massive edits several times. The first column I wrote, “As a High Schooler,” went through several major edits. The first column I wrote went through several significant edits. My first column went through several significant edits.
Writing this column was an emotional roller coaster — the kind that leaves you frustrated and exhausted. The process was stressful and draining. It challenged my writing ability and grit. However, I ended up learning a lot about myself.
Initially, when I started preparing this column during February break, it was titled “As a perfectionist.” I wanted to begin by discussing my inability to accept an imperfect first draft before transitioning into anecdotes about writing for El Estoque and World Literature.
The problem with that column arose when I attempted outlining a conclusion. I wanted to continue my column formula: a moment of realization followed by a lesson I learned about “letting things be imperfect.” I soon found, however, that I couldn’t.
I tried alluding to the reason I wrote in the first place, but that ending felt weak, the emotional connection lacking. I searched my past for a moment where I discovered perfectionism was pointless, but never found one. Nothing was working.
I had no solution or insight to offer about overcoming perfectionism. It’s easy to say, “things don’t need to be perfect.” Acting on that thought is the hard part. I sat hunched over my computer for hours, growing increasingly frustrated. I couldn’t find the perfect conclusion for my piece about the pitfalls of perfectionism.
Now feeling the weight of approaching deadlines, I gave up and pivoted to a new angle about fearing judgment, with which I aimed to paint a picture of past-me agonizing over the concept of right versus wrong in writing. I finished the first draft of this column in a few days. Yet, something felt very off: I thought it had to do with the structure. Perhaps the phrasing wasn’t quite right. Again, this column tortured me. I overedited, trying to achieve some sense of satisfaction. In the end, I submitted a draft which, to my chagrin, I could only pass off as “good enough.”
Even while I waited for edits, the draft weighed on me, a constant burden. I was terrified of what others might think upon reading my subpar work. After an editor finished reviewing my draft, I avoided checking the document tab, afraid to see the revisions she suggested. I’d already lost faith in the column.
When I finally gathered enough courage and checked the edits, I was crushed. Nearly every sentence had a comment attached, each confirming my deepest insecurities about the column. I decided that my only option was to rewrite the entire thing.
I put my head down, overwhelmed by all my resurfacing frustration. I had a sinking feeling: I not only lost confidence in my column writing but also in myself. What if I’ve run out of ideas? What if I’m no longer a good enough writer? Searching for some catharsis, I wrote down everything I felt: the inadequacy, the disappointment.
In my lowest moment, inspiration struck. Originally, I switched from perfectionism because I couldn’t make my outline perfect. I struggled to write about my fear of judgment because I was scared I wasn’t meeting a standard.
I contemplated the irony of my situation. I couldn’t overcome perfectionism and, therefore, wasn’t able to write about it. I couldn’t quit my chase for perfection, fearing not only others’ judgment but also my own judgment of myself.
Thus, the idea for this column was born. I’ve learned that perfectionism is my greatest weakness and that there’s a long road ahead to overcoming my fear of judgment.
As a columnist, I try to have a clean resolution for every story. But because of the personal nature of column writing, I’ve realized that’s not always possible. I still struggle with perfectionism. I still fear judgment and will continue to. However, it’s OK not always to have an answer. It’s OK to be a work in progress, taking small steps towards eventual growth.
As for this column, I’m proud of how it turned out, even if it’s not perfect. If anything, I’ve taken a step so the next roller coaster won’t feel so bad.
