It's taken me a while to get to this point. Where two days ago I went from feeling untouchable and incredibly proud of myself, to feeling like nothing I ever wrote would ever pass muster in the space of an evening, today when I have supposedly finished, I feel nothing. This step has taken me longer than I ever planned. It's taken the turn over of another year. All I was doing was turning those pencil scribbles on my good copy into finished pages. I was effectively proof reading and editting at the same time, which maybe was a big no no but I'm not the kind of person who can just ignore a big typo when I'm structural editing.
But I had some awful motivation problems. Over the Christmas holidays, I took what I would like to call a vacation, but really it was a period where I could not bring myself to work. I was sleeping late everyday and wasting away in front of a computer screen or the television.
What exactly brought me back? I can't say. All I know was that I found a way to make myself work again, and now, for the first time, the book feels finished, and extraordinary, and I just hope that's more than creators bias.
But I learned something the other day. It takes years to create and seconds to criticize. That is what life it. Criticism versus Creation. If its only worth a second to tear something down, ultimately, the time spent creating overrides that, and what you have left is still worthwhile, no matter what anyone says.
If only some publisher would think so, hey?
So where to now? I'll let you know when I know.