Iām working on a fable about a fish. Iāve rewritten the thing at least fifteen times now. At first I felt frustrated by this endless cycle of iteration. But then I remembered: This is how it goes. This is the process. The task is to keep iterating until that āfeelingā is reflected back to me in the work. Itās that pestering creature in my head that made me start writing in the first place, the indescribable essence that I must strive to describe.
I find myself needing the iteration, whether itās the music or the art or the writing I do here. Bit of a George Saunders disciple, who is aaaalllllll about the versioning and iteration. But at some point that time comes when you say, am I really making this any better? I think thatās the time to move on!
Definitely. I suppose thatās really the feeling we look forāthat weāve reached diminishing returns. It has āitā, but changing it further doesnāt add any more of it. I remember editing my book of fables and realizing some tiny issues I still wanted to solve, but any changes would make it potentially worse. Like a Jenga puzzle with no pieces left to pull, haha :)
I find myself needing the iteration, whether itās the music or the art or the writing I do here. Bit of a George Saunders disciple, who is aaaalllllll about the versioning and iteration. But at some point that time comes when you say, am I really making this any better? I think thatās the time to move on!
Definitely. I suppose thatās really the feeling we look forāthat weāve reached diminishing returns. It has āitā, but changing it further doesnāt add any more of it. I remember editing my book of fables and realizing some tiny issues I still wanted to solve, but any changes would make it potentially worse. Like a Jenga puzzle with no pieces left to pull, haha :)