This advice is probably the hardest for me to follow. This advice requires writers to put their perfectionism in their back pocket. It requires writers to put their perfectionism in their back pockets. It requires a kind of submission to the words your pen wants to write; the personification to the pen is essential. The only action required by you the writer is to “step into the scene,” to fully immerse yourself into not only the setting, but the tone, the atmosphere. The rest is up to the pen. The pen is not perfect, but it knows what it’s doing. Trust it. The mind over-thinks. The pen does not.
Setting aside all your instincts to edit as your write requires conscious thought, which seems counter-intuitive. Thinking is required to not think? That doesn’t make much sense. But if the decision to not think isn’t made, the words will flow much more slowly, more abruptly and in awkward spurts. Making the decision to let the pen, or more literally your writing instincts, take over allows the words to spill onto the page in steady drips, a consistent flow of ideas. A certain amount of writing is surrender to instincts. A regaining of a small bit of perfectionism is recovered later in the process, but the initial step is up to the pen.