tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7916332485223671615.post8564344192176865571..comments2023-09-30T08:53:15.486-07:00Comments on Shelly Lowenkopf's Blog: It's All Greek to Melowenkopfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05198658136254028258noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7916332485223671615.post-30827227873918845172008-10-21T12:53:00.000-07:002008-10-21T12:53:00.000-07:00I was finally free to write fiction when I decided...I was finally free to write fiction when I decided I didn't have to write the perfect book. I cursed the Gods of English Lit degrees and got on with it. Thanks for the reminder though, that reaching is within my grasp. "Progress, not perfection" as the wise 12-steppers say.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7916332485223671615.post-56387001297699202412008-10-20T21:14:00.000-07:002008-10-20T21:14:00.000-07:00My son was drawing a picture. He wailed, "It isn'...My son was drawing a picture. He wailed, "It isn't perfect!"<BR/><BR/>"Sweetie," I said. "No picture is perfect. Even the most famous artist in the world makes mistakes. So, learn from your mistake and make another picture."<BR/><BR/>He glares at me. "I want to make the best picture."<BR/><BR/>"There is no best picture in the world," I say, thinking about all the things I would change in my art. <BR/><BR/>"Don't say that, Mom. I want mine to be the best."<BR/><BR/>I sigh. "You're supposed to have fun making it. Otherwise, I suggest you do something else."<BR/><BR/>He throws his pencil down and pouts. A moment later he is back at his picture. He seemed happy.<BR/><BR/><BR/>You'd think 5 is young to be worried about perfection, wouldn't you?Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com