Writing Imperfection & Irrational Fear

I love writing because through it I can see a reflection of nature. In work, relationships, behavior. One of the things around writing that I've always struggled with is the fear of a mistake, the fear of looking strange, of writing something so crazy that will alienate me from my intention of connecting with myself and the world through writing. The fear of being imperfect, incomplete.

(fear puts the kettle on, bags an Early Gray into a cup, warming up)

In work, even relationships we criticize imperfection. And I've been pondering what would fix that, what is the cure. Ideally, we'd be a program, robots without the chance of making a mistake. Then there wouldn't be anything to criticize. No highs, lows, just a calzone middle.

It's a funny device to contrast it like this, a helpful one in my case because when I write, I talk with my fear. I ask it, 'would you rather I will be a robot and be normal?' - 'Yes,' it would say and finish its Earl Gray. Moments later, that same fear would argue that writing normal, plain, and safe is also imperfect.

Funny. Calzone funny.