One afternoon I was having lunch with my friend Misha.

We were gabbing about who-knows-what when she stopped and said, “There’s a beast in my soup.”

I looked over and sure enough, swimming around her soup was a jade-green beetle.

We erupted into giggles.

“What is the other word?” she said, wiping a tear. She’s Dutch and speaks near-perfect English, with occasional blips like this one. “Bug? I meant bug. Or insect.”

“I like beast,” I said, still gasping for breath.

*

I think about this a lot. It’s one of those inexplicably hilarious moments with friends where you laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

It also reminds me of how charming the “wrong” word can be.

*

Most writers I know feel a deep sense of satisfaction when they find just the right word.

We want to describe something very particular, so our brain digs through our vocab and—sometimes—emerges triumphant, with just the right one.

And then there are times when we don’t. The right word is right on the tip of our tongues, and we know instinctively that it would be perfect… if only we could find it. But what IS it? And we tear our hair out looking for it.

But that’s not always the best word.

It’s like that scene in Dead Poets’ Society when Robin Williams’s character is trying to shake his students out of their good-student routine.

He razzes one boy on, asking him to describe a portrait until, disheveled and frantic, the boy yells out, “A sweaty-toothed madman!”

Sometimes, to get the right words, we have to let go of the need to be perfect.

We have to step aside and let our more freely associative subconscious supply the word.

We need to let go of fussy old beliefs like “Beetles aren’t beasts. Teeth don’t sweat.”

*

As you write, let the imperfect words arise.

Don’t worry if you think your vocab isn’t as extensive as “a real writer’s.” (This is a concern I often hear from people who want to write, but believe there’s some magical category of “writers” which they are not part of.)

Don’t obsess over finding the right word.

Let your brain associate freely, weirdly, loosely.

Let go of the need to be perfect.

Because sometimes, in letting go of perfection, we happen upon something even better.

If you’re thinking of writing your memoir in 2025, and could use some support, structure, and guidance, message me below to see how we might work together.