She asked again if I was sure—if I ever got stuck because I didn’t think I had the right materials or tools. Nope, not me! A keyboard or pen and paper was all I needed.
She asked one more time: “Do you ever just not start projects because you’re sure you’ll never be able to do them well enough?”
I stopped breathing. That was me.
While I was actively creative, there were plenty of things I’d wanted to do that I’d cut myself off from, often not even fully consciously, because I knew I’d never be good enough at them to be worth the effort. So I never even tried. I never gave myself the chance to find out if I could have been good at them at all. I just decided I was already a failure instead. That’s a terrible thing to do to yourself.
I had also just started a new job as a copy editor and proofreader. I love working with words—I’d been teaching English as a Second Language before the recession and had just finished a Master of Fine Arts degree in creative writing—and thought this would be a great job for me. I was an excellent editor, and my skills became even sharper during my MFA program.
It didn’t take long before I realized something was very wrong with this “great” job. I tried to do my job to the best of my abilities, but the expectations from my bosses were inconsistent—sometimes, I was supposed to correct only certain things by certain people to certain degrees, which were never communicated to me in advance. At other times, I was supposed to correct everything. I was left to try to figure out which was which and often got in trouble for making the wrong call. It was incredibly confusing and frustrating, because I couldn’t predict which directions I should follow at any given time, and if I asked, I was treated like it should have been obvious.
It left me doubting myself and my abilities—even though I knew, deep down, that I was very good at what I did—in situation made impossible because I was clearly meant to read other people's minds. It also made me more determined to try harder.
The only thing that was predictable was that everything I did, including attempts at mind-reading, was always expected to be perfect in spite of all the mixed messages (and sometimes was even told to “be paranoid.”). It was hard not to let my inner critic have a field day when I guessed wrong. Part of me would often shout back at my inner critic, “I’m still human! None of us is perfect! And I’m trying to be less of a perfectionist, not more!” But the critic didn’t care, and it was louder. And the harder I tried to be perfect, the worse it all got, because perfectionism is always the enemy of the good.
I missed teaching, especially the playful, creative atmosphere that comes from working with kids, terribly, because that sort of environment helps make difficult situations bearable. The only place I still played freely was when I visited my very small nephews a few times a year.
Over time, so slowly that I didn't notice it at first, it became harder and harder to stay connected to my true self. Sleep became more elusive, and I started judging myself—and others—more and more harshly.
Over time, doing anything creative became an afterthought, at best, because it’s hard to find the energy or inspiration to create when you’re being eaten alive from the inside.
When I got the idea for my podcast, Follow Your Curiosity, I thought it would be interesting to hear people’s creative stories and get them in front of a wider audience. I wasn’t sure anyone would listen to it, but I was curious enough to give it a whirl for my own interest.
I didn’t expect my podcast to be the creative outlet that saved me. I didn’t know it would remind me of who I was and who I could be. But it became a source of pride, joy, and meaning that nobody could take from me—an absolute lifeline when I needed it the most.
That’s why I created Make Bad Art: to help others trapped in the cycle of perfectionism and disconnection to rediscover and reclaim their own creativity—that part of themselves that no one can take away—so they can come back to life again.
I especially wanted to create a place where folks could do this work in community, because trying to counter perfectionism can be really tough in a world that keeps telling you all your troubles will be over if you're just perfect enough—if you finally attain that pinnacle of achievement you see on TV and Instagram. It’s so much easier to make these changes when you know you’re not alone.
