Attempts, art, and masterpieces (zaibatsu), 01/02/2019
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As  I continue  to edit  this first  novel, I've  come to  a
realization: I'm not yet capable  of creating a work of art.
Presently, I'm capable of writing  a story; later, I hope to
be able to produce  a work of art, and one day  I may make a
masterpiece. But  in this  moment, all I'm  capable of  is a
story, and attempt.

Honestly, it hadn't  crossed my conscious mind  that I might
be capable of  creating a work of art. This  wasn't at all a
goal. But, as I've struggled through the editing process, an
insidious little thought  has worked its way  into my brain:
that I ought  to refine what I've created until  it was art.
What first came out of  my keystrokes is egregiously flawed,
and I knew that it was when  I wrote it, but the idea that I
had to patch it  up until it was art was  a notion that came
afterward and unnaturally.

Instead  of  this  impulse,  I choose  to  believe  that  my
ambition  should be  what  it  was at  the  beginning of  my
venture: to finish a book.  The editing process is certainly
important,  but it  is  not  a mandate  to  push through  to
perfection.  It  isn't  an   opportunity  for  abstract  and
unreasonable demands.  I  realize consciously that  I am not
capable of creating a work of  art, and so the rational plan
should be to create what I am capable of.

I am closer  to finishing a book than I  have ever been, and
that is  exciting. Striving  for art,  at this  point, would
be  foolhardy and  counter-productive. This  was a  valuable
realization for me this morning,  because it made my editing
session much more enjoyable, and much less self-deprecating.
I'm looking forward to finishing  this phase, and that means
I'm far more likely to actually finish it.