Edison once said something about knowing a hundred ways how *not* to make a lightbulb. This past week was my crash course in a hundred ways how *not* to make a dragon. At least Edison and I both succeeded in the end.
The sunk-cost fallacy is a hard one to beat. Once you've cut fabric, invested time, smashed a finger or two... it's hard to admit that some things just aren't worth trying to fix. Some things are just too far gone, and that's ok. It was a lightbulb that gets you one step closer to a dragon. (Or something. I think I've drawn that analogy out too far... :/ )
Worse yet is when one misstep follows another -- lack of prototype means flying blind, flying blind means not realizing just how curvy those curves were, too-curvy curves means the whole thing bears more resemblance to a fire-breathing pretzel than the wise dragon you were going for.
And so, after screaming and crying (and frightening my saint of a husband), the whole thing was trashed. And a massive weight lifted off of my shoulders. I had made mistakes, but I had documented them, I knew how to fix them, and I knew that this time it would be better.
And it is. See how serene a fresh start made this guy? He's even got a little monk friend to chill with while he waits to go to his final home.