The Perfection Paradox
By Sydney Alexander, written June 2026
One of my best friends from college, a fellow humanities grad, lives four states away in Florida, so we’ve spent a lot of time on the phone since graduating. Inevitably, our conversations always turn to the books we’re reading, the shows we’re watching, the Substacks we’ve read, or other miscellaneous articles or social media posts we’ve seen. Recently she said that the joy of reading and consuming media and pop culture comes from engaging with the discourse surrounding it.
“For example,” she said, “think about Breaking Bad. Everyone just accepts that it’s pretty much a perfect show, so nobody really talks about it. There’s nothing to discuss when a show does everything right. It just exists. But Sex and the City on the other hand . . .”
I appreciated her point. As both an editor and writer, I know it’s easy to put a lot of pressure on yourself to create perfect works of art. I also know that the notion of perfection can also be paralyzing. Though hard to accept, accepting that at some point you just need to put down the pen and appreciate a work for what it is, is part of the process of creating. I think back to college assignments: essays weren’t done once they were perfect; essays were done once I did the best I could with the time I had and turned them in.
It’s a heartening notion that the fun of art doesn’t come from discovering something untouchably perfect but instead engaging with interesting ideas with imperfect executions. In college, I wrote my senior thesis on Karen Russell’s Swamplandia!, one of my favorite books since high school. I remember not really “getting it”when I read it for the first time, and that my reading changed when I read it again years later in an entirely different stage of life. I ended up appreciating certain choices Russell made that I had disagreed with on my first read. Most often, it’s more important for a piece of art to exist than it is for a piece of art to be perfect.
Anyway, I think that a large part of criticism starts with opinion. Before analyzing something, you first have to decide whether you like something or dislike something, and whether you agree or disagree with the author’s message. All of this is subjective. Readers have their opinions; other readers have other opinions; and happy readers like myself read both sides and form my own opinions about their opinions. Recognizing what you love and what you would’ve done differently is all part of smart reading and smart engagement.
Even if you write a pretty airtight story, people will most likely still disagree with some of your choices, because, simply put, everyone has a different sensibilities. Whether or not you like a piece of media is not necessarily a reflection of its execution, but just a difference in opinions. Ultimately, you can’t control how people will receive your work, or how they will interpret it. A sensible reader can still recognize the merits of a book while discussing all the things they would’ve done differently, had they been the one holding the pen. And the best book discussions come when you can debate endings or plot points or love interests that you wish were different.
Perfection is not only an impossible standard in writing but also unnecessary. So, go easy on yourself. You don’t need to worry about writing a perfect story; you just need to write a good one. You could spend hours and hours of your life tweaking and revising and working toward what I think is, frankly, an impossible notion. But a good reader will recognize the merits of your work and eagerly discuss everything else with an open mind.
Think about your favorite book. Do you think it’s perfect? Even if it’s not, do you still love it anyway?
(After my friend made her point about Breaking Bad and Sex and the City, we proceeded to debate everything and everything about the latter, from whether or not we thought Carrie was at fault in her certain relationships, whether her choices were justified, if we liked or disliked various love interests, and aspects of the show we thought had aged like milk.)
Sydney Alexander grew up in the Baltimore (Maryland) area and graduated from Middlebury College with a joint degree in English and geography. At Yellow Arrow Publishing, she previously served as an intern, an editorial associate, and a reader. She has also worked at New England Review and Galiot Press.
*****
Yellow Arrow Publishing is a nonprofit supporting women-identifying writers through publication and access to the literary arts. You can support us as we LUMINATE a path for women-identifying creatives this year by purchasing one of our publications or a workshop from the Yellow Arrow bookstore, for yourself or as a gift, joining our newsletter, following us on Facebook and Instagram, or subscribing to our YouTube channel. Donations are appreciated via PayPal (staff@yellowarrowpublishing.com), Venmo (@yellowarrowpublishing), or US mail (PO Box 65185, Baltimore, Maryland 21209). More than anything, messages of support through any one of our channels are greatly appreciated.