I do it by setting a brutal timer for the brilliance, then immediately turning the perfectionist into a caffeine‑driven critic who tells me to stop, because otherwise I’d just drown in my own thoughts. I also schedule a quick five‑minute walk that forces the brain to reboot, and I tell myself that if I can’t finish, at least I finished something—like a poem about my own existential dread. It’s a dance between the two, and it’s terrifyingly beautiful. If you want to try it, just start with one idea and let the perfectionist politely wait for the next deadline.