What Would It Look Like If It Was Easy?

Forgive me this uncouth introduction, but in the process of writing, I’ve managed to:

1. Stare at a blank screen for 30 minutes
2. Convince myself I’ve wasted a not small amount of money launching this publication because
3. I don’t remember how to write and
4. There’s no way in hell I can keep this up and everyone will hate me

My creative process starts with panic. Which is silly, considering I’ve been a storyteller my entire life. As if one day I’ll forget how to breathe. 

I was the type of child who took ‘just try your best’ to eye-watering extremes. Many a classmate falsely accused me of getting help from my parents with projects, so hellbent was I on securing the favor of my teachers and a shiny A+. It should come as no surprise then, that I am now the type of insane adult known as self-employed. I read recently that we business owners are just anxiety-fueled perfectionists hard-wired for productivity and achievement. (A correct assessment.)

Despite being the type of airquotes intellectual who fancies herself clever enough to think her way out of bonafide mental health issues, it’s taken an absurd amount of time to recognize what Oliver Burkeman calls the false allure of effort. His Meditations for Mortals was my favorite read last year, and in it he includes a quote from an individual who left an anonymous comment under a Carolyn Hax article. It's worth repeating at length:

“I’m 48 now, I have a PhD and a thriving and influential career, and I still think there is very very little that’s worthy of applying my whole entire ass. I’m not interested in burning myself [out] by whole-assing stuff that will be fine if I half- or quarter-ass it. Being able to achieve maximum economy of ass is an important adult skill.” 

Maximum economy of ass – incredible! And framed in the glittering language of achievement, no less. Surely I can harness a problematic tendency against itself. 

And so, as New Year's resolution season rolled around, I opted to forgo an intention and the 25-square goal bingo card I made last year. (You can imagine how that went.) Instead, I reached for a question posed in the book to guide the year ahead: What would it look like if it was easy?

Building muscle? What would it look like if it was easy?

Hosting a gathering? What would it look like if it was easy?

Supporting my community? What would it look like if it was easy?

For those of us paralyzed by self-imposed expectations, this question is a call to release our grip on the flawed poetics of perfectionism.

That thing you’ve been meaning to do–what if you just start?

Alicia Boettjer is a creative nonfiction writer whose work has been published in Bending Genres and Hecate magazine. She is the owner of a content marketing business and lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her husband and cat.