In college, my professors would tell us that we need to take risks in our writing. We need to do something we've never done. We need to do things we're afraid to do. We already know that we can do the things we always do. Your current level is a crutch. If you never do things you don't know you can do, you will never get better. Without the risk of failure, there is no chance of improvement. Or, to put it in the stalest way possible: nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Now, I was quite the contrary lad then, so my first thought was, what if I take a risk, but it is completely insignificant? What if I write something that is 98% safe and 2% risk? Then I can say I took a risk but I have the luxury of feeling completely safe?
I never ended up asking the question, but I know now what the answer is. If2% of your writing takes a risk, then 2% of your writing has a chance to improve. Nothing in writing is black and white (except the ink and paper). Everything works on a continuous spectrum. The more you work, the more you will improve. The more risk you take, the more possibilities you will be aware of.
The one thing about the 2% risk that needs to be mentioned is that it isn't necessarily a bad thing. Beginning writers are generally terrified of taking risks; that's why they need professors to make them do it. If taking the smallest risk possible allows you to try something new by giving you a psychological edge, then it is a good thing. It may be slower and it may take longer than diving head first in the deep end, but you are still making an effort and actively improving. That is always a good thing.
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