When Michelangelo finished his work on the Sistine Chapel, I can see him looking up at his masterpiece. And in that moment, amongst the cheering chorus of those blessed enough to set eyes upon it, I promise he saw the flaws. I imagine he looked up at what everyone else saw as perfection and could immediately point out where he would have used a different stroke, or a different brush, or placed a hand at a slightly different angle.
But that’s how it is with art. The artist is always his or her worst critic. So when the first line of any writing is done, that’s only the beginning of the painful process. The hardest part is far from over.
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