The art you’re making. The business breakthrough. The lifelong relationship you hope to build. They all can wait. They’ve got nowhere to be. No strained relationship with time. They’ll gladly exist at just the right moment if you’ll let them, but they won’t mind if they don’t. Only you will—but can you wait?
I used to rush my essays out the door as soon as the digital ink was dry. Write, polish a bit, hit publish. Now, I write, and then I wait. I edit, and then I wait some more. I ask one friend what they think, wait again, ask another. Writing is like wine: It can age a long time and only get better. It takes more years than most writers have patience before it begins to spoil.
I started drafting my latest essay around a month ago during a long flight. Two weeks later, on the way back, I finished that first draft. I did one round of edits. It still didn’t feel finished. “Can you take a look?” I asked my friend Nick Wignall. He had some great feedback, so two days ago, I edited it again. Now, I need to shorten it. The piece is nearing completion. When will it be done? Six weeks in total? Two months? What does it matter if the end result is the best I could have possibly made it with my current skills?
Rushing the big stuff is like teleportation without flying: alluring but dangerous. Let it take as long as it takes.
