He began. Chipping off as well feeling the pressure.

He wanted it to be perfect. As he had thought. That was a big pressure. The chips had to be off at the right spot and the right way. It was impossible for him to predict how many strokes it's going to take but one to damage it. Fear. It was one of the best friends. In a right amount it did good to him.

This fear often made him overthink. Ended up doing nothing. For hours, days, sometimes months. Waiting for another fear. Better than the existing one. The ideal one, right from the opposite point of view, the right one. Pushed him in the direction towards the one where he overthought. Made him do the best possible thing. Face that fear, act on it, move way past it. Act. In a right direction.

When moved way past beyond it, fear turned into the courage. Well earlier, before the fear, the courage was hollow. Could have created a mess. An accident, in an unwilling direction. But with fear as a cautious start, the act got it's intentions clear. The fear cleared what he didn't want it to be. The fear made the picture clearer. Just like act of sculpting. Only the purposeful remained, a pristine soft copy of a hardened dream. And Fear turned into the courage, became his power, his asset, his tool. Much much powerfuller tool than the ones in his hand.

How many attempts are okay?
How many failures are okay?
How much time one takes is okay?
Just one success if okay?
What's the definition of Okay?

Nobody was going to dive in any of that.
They are just going to look at the outcome.
Nobody is going to go behind what did it take, only the curious ones.
Nobody is going to see him in action.
Just the final finished act.