Green Where You Water It

Tell the best story possible, however many drafts it takes

The corporate world is built on efficiency. You anticipate failure points. You prevent errors before they happen. You aim to get it right the first time.

I come from the accounting world and in accounting, this works. It’s concrete. There are right answers. There are clean reconciliations. Precision and efficiency create excellence.

But creativity doesn’t operate inside that system.

When you’re building a story, you’re building an entire world from nothing. You can’t predict every flaw because the world itself doesn’t fully exist yet. It reveals itself layer by layer.

Efficiency looks vastly different in the world of creativity.

The Trap I Fell Into

For a long time, I approached writing the same way I approached my day job.

If it isn’t right the first time, I was wasting time. If I revise too much, I’m being inefficient. If I don’t get it perfect early, I’ll end up wasting more time later trying to figure it all out.

Then I heard the advice that made it worse:

“Don’t revise endlessly. At some point you have to let it go.”

That sentence planted a ticking clock in my head. If I won’t be allowed to revise forever…Then I better get done right now.

…And then everything was at a standstill because I was too afraid to move in any direction. Every sentence felt permanent. Every plot decision felt irreversible. Every imperfect paragraph felt like a future liability.

The result wasn’t excellence. It was paralysis.

What Perfectionism Is Really Trying To Do

Perfectionism isn’t evil. It’s protective. It tries to:

• Protect you from rejection
• Protect you from shame
• Preserve your identity as “the competent one”
• Create control in an uncertain process

At its core, perfectionism is built on a false contract:

If I eliminate mistakes, I eliminate pain.

That contract doesn’t hold. You can do everything right and still be criticized. You can be flawless and still be misunderstood. You can perfect something and still outgrow it later.

A dash of perfectionism sharpens work. A dollop of it causes:

• Avoidance of risk
• Delayed starts
• Delayed finishes
• Drained joy

And in creative work, joy matters.

The Efficiency Panic

Then there’s the other voice: efficiency.

It sounds rational:

“What if I spend months on this and it’s not good?”
“What if the foundation is weak?”
“What if I’m wasting time?”

Hidden underneath is this assumption:

Time only counts if the output is usable.

That’s false in creative work. Even a “bad” draft gives you:

• Character clarity
• Structural insight
• Emotional tone discovery
• Voice refinement
• Data about what doesn’t work

The real risk is not writing something imperfectly. The real risk is never finishing a draft and therefore never collecting the data points needed to improve it.

The Shift: Unlimited Passes

You are allowed unlimited passes at your work. You’re allowed to revise until you feel that it’s the best story you can tell at this point in time. You don’t have to get it all right on the first pass and you don’t have to “ship it” if you’re not ready. You have more than one shot to get your story right. You have countless drafts to get it right. You are allowed to pursue the worthy goal of telling the best story possible, however many drafts it takes.

The Balance: Structured Progress

If I could suggest one thing to balance the scales, it’s this:

Each pass must operate at a different level.

Example:

Draft 1 → discovery
Draft 2 → structure
Draft 3 → character arcs
Draft 4 → emotional continuity
Draft 5 → prose tightening
Draft 6 → thematic sharpening

That’s unlimited refinement with direction. What matters is that each pass has a purpose. It’s not endless tinkering. It’s layered refinement.

Every stage moves upward. Every pass reveals something new. When you step away and return, you see what you couldn’t see before. Your subconscious has been working. Your taste has sharpened. Your perspective has widened.

And remember, because this is the hardest draft for most of us: draft 1 is not about getting it right. Draft 1 is about making it exist. It’s not polish. It’s presence. You’re generating raw material. You are discovering what the story even is. You’re not wasting time. You’re building clarity.

The point isn’t to revise forever at the same level. The point is to trust that repeated, purposeful passes converge toward strength.

What “Let It Go” Actually Means

The advice to stop revising isn’t about limiting excellence. It’s about recognizing diminishing returns.

There will come a stage where:

• Changes become smaller
• Improvements are incremental
• Emotional impact stabilizes

That’s when you know your story is complete. Not because it’s flawless. But because it’s mature. You’ve taken it as far as you can at your current level of growth. And then you move on because you’ve honored the process fully.

The Real Reframe

Instead of:

“This must be flawless”

Try:

“This must move forward.”

Creative efficiency isn’t speed. It’s directional movement. Understanding that I have the absolute freedom revise each draft until I reach the level I want, makes me feel safe enough to be messy.

Once I trusted that I would always get another pass, I could finally write the first one without fear.

Because I will always have the chance to improve.

Now.

Later.

After distance.

After growth.