Give Yourself Permission To Play At B Grade.

I've been reading Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert lately because I believe creativity is as essential to leadership as any technical capability. Not creativity in the artistic sense, but the kind that keeps us open and curious: willing to sit with a half-formed idea, turn it around, let it breathe, rather than racing straight to the solution we already had in mind.

And one passage stopped me in my tracks.

Gilbert writes that perfectionism is "just fear in fancy shoes and a mink coat, pretending to be elegant when actually it's just terrified."

I read that and thought: I know that leader. I've been that leader.

I'm currently working with a CFO - high achiever, commercially sharp, former competitive netball player. A few years ago, a dodgy knee meant she could no longer play at the level she was used to. Her first instinct? If I can't do it properly, I won't do it at all.

It took honest reflection before she could separate her identity as an elite player from her love of the game. Eventually she gave herself permission to play at B grade - and keep something she loved in her life, even if it looked different now.

In coaching, she started applying the same question to her work:

Does this project require A grade effort, or would C grade be entirely sufficient?

Not every deliverable warrants the same investment. She began asking honestly: what standard does this actually require? And then she gave it that - and nothing more.

What shifted wasn't just how she spent her time. It was how she thought. With less energy locked into flawless execution, she found herself more willing to explore - to float an idea before it was fully formed, to change direction without feeling like she'd failed. As she became a more generative thinker, she created space for the people around her to think more broadly too. Conversations that had previously raced to a conclusion started to breathe.

Because perfectionism isn't really about standards. It's about safety. If I only attempt what I know I can do brilliantly, I never have to risk being seen struggling, or being wrong, or being ordinary.

In the language of the emotional agility work I've been sharing recently perfectionism is one of the stories we get most hooked by: I must be excellent, or I won't show up at all.

As Gilbert puts it:

"We don't have time for perfect. Perfection is a myth and a trap and a hamster wheel that will run you to death."

The leaders I most admire aren't the ones who get everything right. They're the ones who stay in the game - even with a dodgy knee.

Where are you holding back - not because you lack capability, but because you can't guarantee brilliance?

And what might become available if you gave yourself permission to play at B grade?

This is the kind of work I love doing with clients. If it's resonating, I have a small number of coaching spaces available this quarter and I'd love to have a conversation.

With love

Sue