Good enoughism

Hello. I hope you’re having a lovely day.

The delays in my writing are rooted in a few things. First of all, balancing creative passion with the real-world fatigue of a full time job and socialisation. Secondly, the perceived energy which goes into producing art or writing, especially within this context, which I feel even just in anticipation of the act of writing itself. Thirdly, not being a perfectionist, per se, but a ‘good enoughist’.

I find the label of ‘perfectionist’ a bit of a narcisstic one. To me, it implies a refusal to accept nothing but perfection from myself, or my work, or my art. Moreover, the term suggests that I consider any of these things as having the potential for perfection, which I don’t. Instead I like to think of myself as a subscriber to‘good enough-ism’. This is something I think I’ve always felt, stemming from a childhood and adolescence where I was told I was smart, gifted, etc. but was never actually in possession of any exceptional talent or intelligence (at least according to me).

Trinity College Dublin (screams in the Holy and Undivided Trinity) was an exceptional crucible for not just these feelings, but the creation of something new within me altogether. Something that rhymes with shmimposter shmyndrome.

The reality is, especially for someone like myself who wants to pursue content creation as some form of career, that good enough-ism is a more realistic alternative to being a perfectionist. I doubt very few writers look at what they produce and characterise it as perfect. If you do do that, you fall into all sorts of philosophical rabbit holes about how and what represents perfection, and if humanity is even capable of achieving such a thing. I personally ascribe to the ‘nah’ school of thought on this.

Anyway, the idea of pursuing perfection in everything one creates is obviously and unsurprisingly impossible. Personally, the idea of producing something perfect also fills me with a sense of boredom - I am not perfect, and I don’t want to produce something that is, as that will not be in any way representative of me or what I perceive art to be.

For me, the experience of the individual is at the forefront of art’s interpretation and any attempts to define or classify it. For me, the beauty of art as an aesthetic experience which belongs to the individual, means the way that I perceive art is only really understood by me. Those who agree or disagree are free to do so, as these criticisms are likewise based on one’s own experiences of art and modalities of interpretation.

The point I am trying to make about perfection as a barrier to inspiration and new thinking has been far better articulated by others. Specifically, I would like to refer to John Dewey to make my point:

In addition, the very perfection of some of these products [works of art], the prestige they possess because of a long history of unquestioned admiration, creates conventions that get in the way of fresh insight. (John Dewey, Art as Experience).

I (sort of) recently left the academic environment of an ‘elite’ university - a word which I use as a reflection of the environment itself, as well as the perception of students within and outside the institution. My experience of this environment was that it worked as a catalyst for two varieties of conversation. The first, discussions with peers who held genuine interest in and passion for ‘fresh insights’ and excitement about the intellectual possibilities of attending university. The second, which I am pretty sure is a shared experience for uni students the world over, is a form of conversation with a very specific architecture. These other conversations, to me, are better understood as constructions. Constructions formed from a foundation of the desire to showcase intellectual prowess and to reveal oneself as the most well-versed in Foucault or in formalist thought or whatever in any given room.

Looking back at my time at Trinity, an organisation with a pronounced history of elitism I am sure no one would deny, I understand the inevitability of a lot of these experiences. The desire to participate - as I myself did time and time again to placate my own academic insecurity - is as natural as the thing itself. I feel the same diffidence now when reading the work of other people who I feel or know to be somehow better than me.

All this brings me back to the topic of today’s letter, good enough-ism. That any sort of regular content creation needs to be understood in the context that sometimes schedule demands a bit of self-leniency. In many ways, distance from an academic context has given me a better appreciation for the value of writing for the love of it, for the joy of experiencing it rather than its objective academic or intellectual worth.

Academia was greating for teasing out my own abilities (or lack of lmao) to critically think, but it also a controlled and limiting perspective. Everything, down to the way you reference, is catered to the telos of a grade or appeasing a particular examiners’ preferences.

It’s a scary thing for any writer to face the contrast between a ‘perfect’ idea and the praxis of actually creating something. The reality of facing ones own limitations in using words to actualise a hyperromantic vision of our own ideas. Writing my silly little letter, I have realised that letting go of these standards is the quickest route to improving my work. Moreover, for anyone looking to make content creation any part of their working life, it’s something of a necessity.

Thanks for reading. Speak soon!

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Anyhoo, these letters always turn out slightly different to how I intend them but I may or may not plan on some more arts and culture bits in the future. I may also return to the themes of the the earlier ‘Good for U’ canon by giving some advice/ notes on dealing with your first job. I’ve been a bit self-critical of late about how much my newsletter has become concerned with its own form and production. We’ll see hehe!