I'm coming to the end of the first draft of my novel and it's bad. I've made sure of it.
One of my many faults is I can obsess over things that don't matter, at least they don't really matter. In the past I've tended to punish myself for not making my first draft good, while at the same time punishing myself for not getting to the end, decrying my badness for not getting on with it and beating myself up for missing out on all the wonderful pieces of prose I never thought of.
Irritating isn't it.
This time, I've allowed myself to leave things undone. I've left description unwritten (except for a reminder in parentheses), and not worried about the dialogue, background or whether a character has a name or not. (I'm referring to one of them as 'the copper' throughout)
It's liberating and is doing me a lot of good as I'm focused on getting the story outline done (I tend to be a bit of a pantser that way) while allowing myself to be imperfect.
Imperfection is a far happier place than I thought it would be.