I used to ask this question in interviews all the time: "What are your weaknesses?"
I hate that I asked it; it's a horrible, mean question - but the way people answer it tell you a lot about them. Some people take the cheesy way out with something like, "I'm so organised and sometimes that's a weakness". I don't like that; I'd often tell them to cut the crap and be more honest. (But more professional wording!) Some would come straight out with a real answer, and then hope you wouldn't put a big cross against their name. I love honesty, so it rarely ended that way.
When I did the interview rounds and was asked that same question, I really struggled. I mean, I do have weaknesses, of course I do. It's just that when I know they exist, I work at stopping them being weaknesses. I work and strive until I can't consider them weak points anymore.
I'm not good at knowing that I have weaknesses. Or, at least, weaknesses that I want to be strengths. It's an uncomfortable feeling.
The thing with writing is that your faults are very readily and very regularly pointed out to you. (As are your strengths, really, but isn't it funny how you focus so much on the criticism instead. The optimistic side of me likes to think it's because we're all keen to learn - and no one ever learnt much from being told they were doing a good job.)
Sometimes it makes you want to forget the whole idea and run back to safety.
I'm a very Sensible Person but sometimes there's this thing inside me that says, you've taken the jump, now just keep free falling. The fear of it gets in your veins and makes you feel alive. Not surviving just to wade through the crap of each day. Alive.
That in itself makes you face a lot of stuff that you're able to hide really well when you're in a safe, comfortable place.
Eventually, you come to know your weaknesses. Sometimes you have to forget perfectionism, and accept that you can't be amazing at everything.
But when something is really important, you can't shrug it off and head towards safety.
You just have to try harder.