Not very long ago there were two sheep who put on wolf's clothing and 
went among the wolves as spies, to see what was going on.  They 
arrived on a fete day, when all the wolves were singing in the taverns 
or dancing in the street.  The first sheep said to his companion, 
"Wolves are just like us, for they gambol and frisk.  Every day is 
fete day in Wolfland."  He made some notes on a piece of paper (which 
a spy should never do) and he headed them "My Twenty-Four Hours in 
Wolfland," for he had decided not to be a spy any longer but to write 
a book on Wolfland and also some articles for the Sheep's Home 
Companion.  The other sheep guessed what he was planning to do, so he 
slipped away and began to write a book called "My Ten Hours in 
Wolfland."  The first sheep suspected what was up when he found his 
friend had gone, so he wired a book to his publisher called "My Five 
Hours in Wolfland," and it was announced for publication first.  The 
other sheep immediately sold his manuscript to a newspaper syndicate 
for serialization. 

Both sheep gave the same message to their fellows: wolves were just 
like sheep, for they gamboled and frisked, and every day was fete day 
in Wolfland.  The citizens of Sheepland were convinced by all this, so 
they drew in their sentinels and they let down their barriers.  When 
the wolves descended on them one night, howling and slavering, the 
sheep were as easy to kill as flies on a windowpane.

Moral: Don't get it right, just get it written.