I was so nervous about starting a painting that I psyched myself out of starting last night after penciling.
"But the penciling already looks good by itself."
"My paints and brushes are so cheap, it's not gonna look good when it's done."
"My hands shake too much, I could never keep still enough to trace these fine lines."
"I'll probably get tired of looking at it, even when it IS done, and even if it DOES end up looking okay."
I haven't painted something from scratch since before I can remember (elementary school?), and I have no real idea what possessed me to start this weekend, but here I am, rolling with it, and drowning out my defeatist inner monologues with videogame OSTs.
I'm sure there's a lesson here about conquering perfectionism.