The eraser only matters because the pencil was brave enough to write something.

Correction is downstream of commitment, and there is nothing to fix until someone puts a mark down. Fear of being wrong presents itself as carefulness, but a blank page is not more accurate than a flawed one, only emptier. Every edit you will ever make depends on a first version existing.

Write the rough version this week, badly and quickly, and let it be wrong on purpose. Show it to one person before you have finished defending it. Revision is genuinely easier than creation, and you cannot reach the easier part without doing the harder one first.