If you never feel embarrassed by your creative work, you’re playing it too safe.

That’s it. That’s what I want to tell you.

But, of course, I can keep going.

Embarrassment isn’t your enemy—it’s the sign you’re doing something real. But perfectionism? That sneaky little bastard? That’s what’s actually keeping you stuck. It whispers that if you tweak, polish, and refine just a little longer, you’ll reach some mythical point where the work is unimpeachable, undeniable, and immune to judgment.

Except that point doesn’t exist.

So you sit there, hovering over a draft, convinced that if you just fix this one thing, it’ll finally feel “ready.” But ready is just fear in a fancier outfit. It’s a way to delay risk, to avoid exposure, to never have to sit with the possibility that your work might not land the way you want it to.

And yeah, I get it. I edit for a living. Imperfection makes my skin itch. But here’s the truth I hate admitting: Perfection is not what makes creative work great. Risk is.

So that means…

If You’re Never Embarrassed, You’re Not Pushing Yourself

The best, most electric creative work—the kind that sticks to people’s ribs—always walks the fine line between brilliance and cringe. If you’re never embarrassed by something you’ve made, it means you’re sanding off too many edges. You’re polishing the weirdness out of it. You’re taking your sharp, unfiltered, too-much thoughts and making them palatable.

And for what? So no one side-eyes you? So no one questions your choices? Cool, congrats. You’re safe. You’re also boring.

Look, the stuff that makes you squirm? The weird idea, the too-honest confession, the first draft that makes you want to fake your own death—that’s the good shit.

And besides…

Embarrassment = Proof of Growth

You ever look back at something you wrote years ago and cringe so hard your soul tries to leave your body? That’s because you’ve grown. And guess what? You’re going to cringe at today’s work eventually, too. That’s not a reason to avoid putting it out into the world—it’s proof you should. Put down the best version you can right now, then let future-you take it further.

So, what do you do with this?

• Write the cringe version first. Go all in. Say the thing you really want to say. You can always edit later.
• If a sentence makes you feel exposed, keep it. That’s probably the line that will make people sit up and pay attention.
• Follow the discomfort. When you feel that oof, should I really say this? moment—that’s your creative North Star.
• Put it out there before you feel “ready.” You will never feel fully ready. Publish anyway.

And remember…

The Work Wants to Be Seen

The alternative to risking embarrassment isn’t safety—it’s stagnation. It’s creative purgatory. It’s a file full of drafts that never see daylight because what if it’s not quite there yet?

But hear me when I tell you: It will never feel quite there yet. Not now, not in five years, not when you finally nail the perfect phrasing. You don’t cross some magical threshold where you suddenly feel worthy of putting your work out into the world. You decide to put it out in spite of the discomfort you feel when you look at all its still-nobbly bits.

Embarrassment is a teacher. It shows you where your limits are. And it dares you to push past them. So, what’s something you’ve been sitting on, afraid to share? Drop the perfection act and let it breathe. The work wants to be seen.

And so do you.