Just when you think you’re pretty much done, you can’t seem to rid yourself of the niggling doubt about that last chapter. ‘Now, now, it’s just that I don’t want to give up the story,’ you tell yourself. ‘It’s hard letting go, sending my baby off to make her own way in the big wide world of publishing. Stop obsessing and move on.’
But still…you just can’t sleep without replaying those last few scenes. Then you read something like this, and it cements the doubt. ‘Ugh,’ you’re thinking, ‘I’m so sick of this story—who cares about these imaginary people anyway. I wish they'd just get a life and leave me alone.’
Then, not only one reader, but two, hit on the very insecurity that keeps you from saying ‘it’s the best I can do.’
Deep breath. Step back. Talk it over with support team. And it’s back to the drawing board.
Suddenly, those synapses that you thought had exhausted themselves begin firing instantaneously. You no longer care that winter is here for another four months. Amazingly, the bed that felt like your permanent home this morning doesn’t look nearly as inviting as the office chair…