For a long time I called myself a perfectionist.
It sounded like a virtue.
It was mostly fear in a nicer outfit.
Perfect was the reason I didn’t ship.
The thing in my head was flawless;
the thing in the world would be judged.
So I kept polishing in private
and finishing nothing.
What changed me was a simple fact:
the unfinished perfect thing
helped exactly no one.
The flawed, shipped thing
got feedback, helped someone,
and taught me what I couldn’t learn alone.
Now I ship a little embarrassed,
on purpose,
and fix it in the open.
Done turned out to be the feature
I’d been avoiding all along.
– Serguey Asael Shinder
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