I think I've talked a lot here about how much music is a big part of my life and part of my routine is to listen to new song releases every Friday. I look forward to listening while I work, discovering new gems, and letting music be the background to my daily life. Sometimes a song will really hit me for a variety of reasons: the bass line, the rhythm, the lyrics, or just a general vibe of "yes, please, more of this!"

This morning it was a new song by Teddy Swims called "Perfect Man". One line that he repeats caught my attention, "There's no such thing as a perfect man." Now, they lyrics are actually about a man who doesn't show up for his partner in the way he needs, excusing it with no one being perfect, and she ends up leaving him. Basically, perfect doesn't exist so why even bother trying (or asking for it).

If you've been around for awhile, you've heard me say things like "Done is better than perfect" or "perfect doesn't exist". I've said it about newsletters, about publishing, about books, about editors, about myself, about *waves hands* basically everything (I even said it in Edit Your Way).

Teddy and I are saying what sounds like the same thing but for two different reasons. In his song, it's an excuse.

When I say it, it's an invitation to keep moving forward.

But listening to that song did have something popping into my head as soon as I heard it: there's no such thing as a perfect publishing career.

How often has professional jealousy gotten you twisted up and you start thinking "my career would be perfect if I had that...opportunity, fans, social media success, written that book." And how often have you convinced yourself that there's an idealistic (probably unrealistic) version of what your career will look like "someday" and that will be the moment it will all be easy, you'll be fulfilled, you'll have made it, you'll know you're good enough.

No matter whether you're just starting in publishing, or you've been doing it for 20 years, I think there's still a part of every author that keeps hold of some idea of what a "perfect" writing career looks like.

But here's the thing: I don't know that I've ever heard any author say that they've reached/achieved or are living in their perfect career.

I think it's because too many of us think of perfect as something that's also a bit idealistic or unrealistic. And instead of thinking of "perfect" as the thing we already have that's maybe flawed, difficult, frustrating...we think of perfect as something nearly unattainable.

And I think sometimes that actually acts as a roadblock because instead of leaning into what's working now, or what we're good at, or what's incredible about what's happening at the moment, we keep looking into a misty "perfect" future and wishing "if only".
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So today, I invite you to think about this: what if the career you need to work for isn't in the "someday" but in the now, in the messy reality you're already living. Sure, it doesn't feel perfect because it's hard, sometimes it sucks, and oh my god, you could really use more readers, more page reads and yeah, more money.

In the song, "no such thing as perfect" means to stop trying, give up, and lose out on *what he has right now*.

Instead, I want you to think of "no such thing as perfect" as the reason to stop waiting for perfect and invest in the career in front of you. To appreciate what's working, build on that, and give yourself grace and kindness and the understanding you give your writing friends.

This isn't about toxic positivity, or pretending things aren't hard (sometimes, all the time, right now), it's about not overlooking what's good and working because you're so busy comparing it to some version of your career (or someone else's) that doesn't exist. And, like the lyrics in the song, it's also not about letting "perfect doesn't exist" become its own excuse and roadblock.

If I asked you what was one thing in your career that's actually working right now, or something you've been doing well or that you're proud of, but you've just been too busy "if only"-ing to appreciate, what would you tell me?

This email turned out a bit longer than I intended but it felt important enough to spend a little more time on to get it right. I'd love to hear from you what comes up when you think about this (and what's going well for you right now!)
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~Angela

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