The Baby and the Bathwater
Improving is a delicate process—it’s like surgery, it requires precision. So much of what we may think is wrong with us, or the art we’re working on, can in actuality be so little. In editing, or in anything, there is the problem of overcorrection, where you ‘improve’ past what needs to be improved, erasing some of what was working fine. This then creates a new problem, as that unnecessary vacuum must be filled, and with what—this is the dysmorphia of sorts that can strike an artist, a human. There is no ‘perfect’, and there are so many opportunities to ruin the good on the path towards that. This is different than ‘killing your darlings’—this is killing innocents. This the baby being thrown out with the bathwater.
Editing is not ‘changing out’—the purpose of editing is to hone, polish what is there rather than switch it out with something else entirely. If you are doing that, you are still in the writing stage—you didn’t finish what you were working on to the point that you are even ready for editing. An editor’s job—and an editor should be you, primarily—is to clarify. It’s about understanding what the words are trying to say, and where you have failed them in putting them down onto paper. It’s not your place to have any opinion on the piece itself, just to help it be the best it can be—not ‘perfect’, but clear.
As we improve ourselves—grow as human beings, gaining more empathy and expanding our consciousness—it’s important to not be someone we’re not. In striving to be, let’s say, likable, we can erode every quality of ourselves that is perfectly fine, just not for everyone. Those qualities are your protectors—you should only want to be loved by those who would love you. You should want to be the best version of yourself, not the ‘most liked’. If your goal is to be loved by all, there is no barrier to entry for those who would surround you. No sacrifice is being asked of them, no challenge comes their way, and so it is impossible for them to truly value you. You should never want to be the equivalent of a ‘free lunch’—as there is no such thing, so to will there be no soul within you.
I’ve been working on music again for the first time in a long while. In the process of that, I have been exploring old demos of mine that I was always pretty harsh on, and ashamed of. To my surprise, now that I’m working on the songs again, I understand the choices I made at the time better—and I understand that some of them were the right choices, just not done as well as they could’ve been. A couple more takes here and there, a little more precision, and they would have been fine recordings. So much of what got me off of making music was the feeling that I needed to start from scratch every time a demo didn’t come out as planned—that I had to take an entirely new approach to the entire song. I am learning now that I simply needed a scalpel, not an axe. I am learning to love and respect previous incarnations of myself on a level never before.
Never be too harsh on yourself, or your work. Try and respect where you were coming from, and try to bring that to its fullest fruition in as few moves as possible. Honor the uniqueness of what you were doing—what you could only ever have done. Solve problems with more love, more empathy, rather than less. Be excellent to yourself and all that comes from you.
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