One of my significant life lessons going on right now has to do with how to figuring out how to insist on high quality product without being the person people see emails from and say "Ugh, I can't deal with that right now." In terms of things I care about, "good enough" has never been an option for me. I'm not saying this to toot my own horn--trust me, it's more often a curse than a blessing.
The other trouble is that we live in a culture of "bare minimum for the sake of speed." You see it in businesses everywhere. The guy who works hard to get things absolutely right, but works slowly, is overlooked in favor of the guy who can do just enough to avoid having oversights link back to him, and his ability to both avoid blame and look productive get him ahead.
Luckily, it seems so far, that writing for a small press is a good fit for a chronic perfectionist like me. There's none of the sense of being swept along on the conveyor belt of the publishing machine when your work isn't wedged into a lineup of 25 books that need to release in the same quarter. Perhaps I will discover a different outlook by the time my novel releases, but for now, I have had no sense of being rushed by anyone but me. (And incidentally, I've been pretty pleased with my ability to forecast my self-imposed deadlines. There's something I don't have to harp on myself about!) After hearing horror stories from folks who have worked with big houses, how they have had to settle for books they felt needed more finessing, or covers that weren't quite on the mark, I am glad I am making my first foray into publishing with small presses.
What I'm also realizing, though, is that getting a book out on the market is much like what my former pastor used to say about getting a new car. He used to say, "Every new car needs one good dent." In the same way, I think every author needs to figure out how to take a deep breath and realize books launch with mistakes. It's inevitable, no matter how many excellent people go over my work, it will get printed with something missing, extra, or askew. And the sooner I can take a deep breath and realize my credibility as an artist will not crumble when the fans find those little errors, the closer to sane I will be.
"Sane" being relative, of course. After all, I am a writer.