Sonya Matejko adores writing words and helping people find them(selves). As a writer, poet, author, and founder, she uses words to make people feel seen and heard (and does so using the Oxford comma). Her writing has appeared in The Atlantic, Forbes, Business Insider, HuffPost, Yoga Journal, and more. While her poetry can be found on bookshelves with her debut collection, Everlasting Spring: 101 Poems for Every Season of Life (Yorkshire Publishing). She’s also the founder of Nurtured Narratives, a writing services company rooted in wellness, where Sonya writes about the people, brands, and ideas that help people live healthier and work better. She’s worked with brands like American Express, Betterment, Workday, and WeWork and supported female solopreneurs across North America and Europe. Connect with Sonya at www.sonyamatejko.com or follow her poetry @aforceofnurture.

Being a perfectionist means hovering between the need to create and the fear that it’ll never be “good enough.” I’ve been there.  My most impressive work is probably stuck in drafts somewhere, I edit my bio every few months, and the emails and texts I’ve rewritten a dozen times sometimes never get sent at all. I would iterate for the sake of perfection, leaving my writing unfinished—and me unfulfilled.

This pattern held me back from calling myself a writer and poet until my 30s, despite publishing in literary magazines when I was young and earning dozens of bylines in mainstream publications as an adult. The perfectionist in me wouldn’t allow me to own the title because I hadn’t met an imaginary benchmark I couldn’t even define.

And yet, I’ve steadily (read: slowly) unlearned my tendencies and softened my approach to writing over time. I’ve worked to befriend my inner critic (who I call Angelica) and put myself out there, proving that showing up is better than staying idle.

In defying my perfectionist leanings, I’ve spiced up my creativity, built a community of 12,600+ followers, and published a poetry book that hit best-seller status in two categories on Amazon upon release. It hasn’t been perfect (and that’s the point), but by embracing my mess, writing for myself, and setting boundaries with my inner idealist, I’ve found a way to create with less friction.

So, without procrastinating as I used to, this is what has worked for me to write and release poetry as a recovering perfectionist.

Write wholly for yourself

When I was trying to emulate successful writers, it never worked. The poems felt off. People didn’t engage. And, worst of all, I didn’t feel goodabout what I was putting out there. I would berate myself about why it wasn’t working. Was I doing it wrong? Was my writing not as good as theirs? Did the algorithm just hate me?

It took me a while to realize that I was doing it wrong. Not because I should’ve done a fourth draft before posting. But because I wasn’t writing authentically. I was trying too hard to sound like someone else and not enough to sound like me. No wonder my poetry didn’t connect with others; it didn’t even connect with me!

Eventually, I learned that there was no formula I could follow if I didn’t first follow my heart. To put this into practice (especially when your muse is mum), ask yourself: What do I need to hear today?  I bet someone else needs to hear it, too.

Set boundaries with editing

It’s the strangest thing—when inspiration strikes, the words flow, the template is ready, and your thumb hovers over the “Share” button. Then suddenly, it all looks wrong. You exit, edit, edit again, and never post. Sometimes, I don’t even get that far; my poems get lost in my Notes app or abandoned on a Canva template.

But if I waited until a poem felt “finished,” I’d have zero poems online and an unfinished manuscript. So, while I’ve lived through that editing cycle, I’ve also learned to rebel against it.

What I’ll often do first is give a poem breathing room—stepping away (physically!) and then coming back the same day or (latest) by the next morning. That tight time frame creates enough pressure to push me to post—or move on to the next one. (Yes, sometimes it’s just okay to ditch it.)

I’ve also learned to remind myself that publishing a poem, particularly on social media, doesn’t mean I can never revisit it. While working on my book, I dismantled old poems, using them as the foundation for something new. Poetry evolves—and so do we. But, as you do, give yourself some boundaries.

Dare to let your mess be seen

People don’t connect with perfection—they connect with vulnerability, which is inherently imperfect. Think about the writing you most resonate with. Does it politely reflect perfection? Or does it howl, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m doing it anyway?

Sharing your disarray could be what makes someone feel seen—and what makes them want to see more of your work. Challenge yourself to write without self-censoring and share without overthinking. Let your poetry spill over the edges instead of trying to fit it neatly into a box. Dig into your inspiration like you’d dig through a cluttered drawer—without worrying about the mess you leave behind.

With this practice, I don’t mean to submit and publish everything. There is still plenty of value in refining. But do get into a habit of not needing to hide the mess—of not polishing your words so often the inspiration rubs off. (Been there, done that, regretted it, too.)

And if it’s still too scary to share it publicly, that’s okay! Start small by sharing it in a group chat or join a writing group where you’re encouraged to share drafts.

Need more inspiration? Try these:

  • Experiment with other poetry forms unlike your own. Play with blackout poetry or free verse, or use my poetry prompts to help you loosen up.
  • Write in community. Join writing groups, writing retreats, or writing contests—chances are there will be another perfectionist (or two).
  • Keep affirmations in your journal or on your desk. Tell yourself: I am allowed to write something imperfect. I am allowed to share something unfinished.
  • Create a folder for validation. Screenshot positive feedback to turn back to when you’re arguing with your inner perfectionist.

A final dose of poetic permission

Sharing poetry as a perfectionist isn’t about conquering perfectionism but learning to play with it. It’s about showing up, mess and all, and trusting that your words, even if flawed, have the power to connect with someone else.

Because poetry isn’t about being flawless; it’s about being human. Your vulnerability is what makes your work connect. So, dare to release your mess and trust that your words—maybe even your first draft—are enough.

So go, write, share, and let your words spill over the edges. Someone out there is waiting to read it.

Everlasting Spring : 101 Poems for Every Season of Life by Sonya Matejko

Everlasting Spring: 101 Poems for Every Season of Life by Sonya Matejko (@aforceofnurture) is a poetry collection that speaks to every stage of life’s journey. Divided into four sections, it explores themes of desire, change, resilience, and growth, offering both motivation and comfort. With seasonal prompts to guide reflection, this collection encourages readers to embrace their personal rhythms—until they find their way back to themselves, back to Spring.

Buy the book now: Bookshop.org | Amazon | Barnes & Noble