Confessions of a Serial Non-finisher
By Jan O'Hara | April 20, 2015 |
I’ve been telling myself that no one wants to read a heavy-duty confession on a Monday morning. But since this is when my WU slot arises and since my brain refuses to cough up an alternate subject for a post, it appears we’re stuck with seeing this through.
You ready? *deep breath*
Hi. My name is Jan and I’m a recovering serial non-finisher of long-form fiction.
I’ve been writing for about six years now. Five years ago, much to my astonishment and delight, I became the Voice of the Unpublished Writer for WU. The implication of that honor — at least in my mind — was that I’d immediately begin working to put myself out of a job, both to give another writer the chance to be part of this awesome community and to satisfy my own ambition. Yet until a few months ago, barring the travelogue I wrote in grade seven, and which exceeded the suggested word count by 900%, I had never finished the first draft of any long-form fiction.
It’s not that I don’t write or can’t write, though there was a gap of twenty-five years when I pursued the practice of medicine and gave up all dreams of writing fiction. (Perhaps entrenching a habit of self-denial that I’ve had to break again and again.) Since picking up the pen as an adult, I’ve written nearly 500 blog posts for various sites. For a time I edited and wrote for the WU newsletter. I’ve entered flash fiction contests and sent in pages for agent-sponsored critiques. In all instances where I’ve had deadlines set by another party, I’ve met them with time to spare and work, I believe, of a reasonable standard.
I also have a hard drive littered with fiction projects. In one world of linked characters alone, I have three first drafts in the 50,000-80,000-word range. One novel’s first draft is approximately 85% complete, which was how far I got before I started down a frustrating and circular path.
You’ll note, however, that I said I was in recovery.
While I have theories about what holds me back, and theories about what made this project different than my numerous false starts, we can talk about that in another blog post. Today I have a different goal.
Today I’d like to talk to the other serial non-finishers in the crowd, because from casual comments to pleas for help on WU’s Facebook page, I know I’m in good company.
First, to those of you who publicly blew off steam and bared your soft underbelly to the world, thank you. Your comments helped the struggle become impersonal. They gave me hope in the form of thoughts like this one: If X, who is otherwise put-together and a fabulous human being, also struggles to finish, maybe I’m not hopeless. Maybe this is just my awkward writing adolescence. So X, while while I’m sorry for your pain — and trust me, I know how discouraging those months and years of self-doubt can be — allow me to express my gratitude for your openness.
Second, this post is my attempt to pay it back, because when you’ve been a non-finisher for any length of time, two questions lodge in your mind and, like a tick, siphon off creative blood.
1) If I ever manage to write The End, will it feel anticlimactic?
I’ve reached significant milestones before and been underwhelmed by the experience. For instance, I graduated from medical residency on a Friday and started my full-time practice on the following Tuesday. In many ways, it felt as if I’d simply started another training rotation under an exacting jerk of a boss.
Would finishing a first draft feel the same?
As it happens, I can share a snapshot of that moment. Here is a passage from my longest-running writing project to date — my journal — which the ToolMaster has promised to burn without reading if I should predecease him. (Yes, this means you will know more about my inner musings than my husband.) Forgive the roughness; I didn’t want to prettify it and lose the sentiment.
In my imagination, finishing your first long manuscript will feel equivalent to swimming the span of the Atlantic Ocean at age 50. When you emerge onto the sands of Nova Scotia, you will laugh so hard that you scare away seals basking on the rocks of the bay and the salt of your tears and the ocean will commingle. You will hear a choir of angels and feel incandescent with joy, as if those angels brought with them a giant magnifying glass which collected all the goodness in the world and beamed it onto you, so you were aflame with it, crisped with it, poof, there went lost your carefully arched eyebrows and you couldn’t find in you a particle of regret. (In nod to global warming, maybe angels should employ a giant-watt LED.)
I’ve imagined it many times, yet in reality: I sit in a worn, wing-backed chair rescued from a neighbor’s front yard when they tired of snagging their clothing on the extruded upholstery nails. My laptop is so old it creaks and smells of joint balm.
I’m alone for the moment, everyone else off at school and work. The cats have been banished for one too many buttock displays, the dog for her leaping eyebrows which reproach me for my indolent nature. There is no spotlight, no heavenly choir, yet my heart beats with a sense of significance — turns out it’s as oxygenating as blood and twice as satisfying — and my lips taste of salt.
2) Once into revisions, will the joy of finishing dissipate?
The UnConference 2014 confirmed what I’d known in my heart before I attended it: this project requires substantial revisions before it’ll be ready to send to anyone, including my kindly beta readers. In November, somehow that news invigorated me.
Now, while the euphoria has faded somewhat, I’m mentally a million miles ahead of where I was at this time last year. The reason? It’s obvious how much I underestimate my desire to write — my thickheaded, unrelenting, blessed stubbornness. Therefore, If I can push through when I believe I don’t have it in me, how far can I get when I believe that I do?
For I am a finisher. Join me, X. I believe you can become one, too.
Now to you, Unboxeders. Have you finished the first draft of a long work of fiction? Was this a seminal moment in that you recall where you were, the circumstances of your life at the time, how it felt? Did your euphoria fade quickly or fail to appear altogether? If you have yet to write The End, what are your expectations around finishing?
A USA Today bestselling author, former family physician and academic, Jan O’Hara (she/her) left the world of medicine behind to follow her dreams of becoming a writer. She writes love stories that zoom from wackadoodle to heartfelt in six seconds flat: (Opposite of Frozen; Cold and Hottie; Desperate Times, Desperate Pleasures). Her latest Christmas novella, The Cowboy’s Comeback Christmas, is part of a 9-author-strong anthology (A Cowboy This Christmas: A Sweet Romance Anthology). She also contributed to Author in Progress, a Writer’s Digest Book edited by Therese Walsh.
Yes Jan,
I finished! I am now in revision which I think is harder than writing the damn think in the first place.
I am in the learning stage of how-to, and feel completely overwhelmed, my head spins with all the new info, not sure if I can do it, finish it, or tear it up, throw it out, (yes I do know it’s in my computer), yet I keep working hoping that one day it will all make sense.
It seems that finishing is not finishing, just starting all over again and going deeper.
Congratulations on finishing the first draft, Irene. You said: “It seems that finishing is not finishing, just starting all over again and going deeper.” Yes, I’m grateful to the writers who’ve drummed this reality into my skull because it’s kept my expectations realistic. You don’t sound daunted, however. Wishing you all the best in revision enlightenment and progress.
Oh Jan, reading your post is like looking in the mirror, including the 25+ years I didn’t write while practicing law. (Legal pleadings don’t count. Not as fiction, anyway.) I’ve had a few short stories published but have not yet completed the first draft of the novel I hope to publish. So glad that I – and my insecurities – are not alone. And so I push through, confident that the writing, the plot, all of it, is getting better as I go. Thanks for commiserating.
You weren’t any of my Xs, Mary, so you’ve added to the growing number of slow-but-persistent peers. ;)
I’m reasonably certain that some of the personal qualities which lead to success in law (or medicine) are traits that have to be overcome or dialed back for success in a creative life. Maybe that makes the learning curve initially steeper than for others who haven’t been taught to avoid failure at any cost, etc. But if you’ve got the tenacity, smarts and moxie to practice law, you’ve certainly got it in you to finish. Best wishes moving forward.
This is perfect: “turns out it’s as oxygenating as blood and twice as satisfying.” I’m glad you FINISHED, Jan. Revision is its own challenge, true, but for me getting the draft down is the toughest job. As a former physician, you know you can’t diagnose and then treat a patient’s strange symptoms without checking that all systems are working properly. A draft is like having a full report — all of the systems are before you, and you know what’s going on with them. Now it’s just a matter of fixing what needs fixing. Welcome to surgery. You can do it, Doc. (Can I say I’m proud of you? Because I’m so proud of you.)
T, thank YOU for the calm, accepting grace with which you’ve handled my battles. You can’t know how much they’ve helped.
And your metaphor is encouraging, especially since I know how often our brains align. I do believe I will get it done to a point I like it. I’m not committing to it being anything others will enjoy, but honestly, at this point I can’t worry about that.
Jan, your journal entry made me laugh! But, but, you banished your cats? And the dog too?
The first time I finished a novel (65K) I marveled that it did not take me 65 yrs. Knowing I could write a big book was so freeing. I was euphoric. It was late summertime, 5 yrs ago, and I’d write late at night after everybody had gone to bed, so I was exhausted. I planned to take the rest of the summer off and sleep and that’s exactly what I did.
Vijaya, yes, I knew I would finish that morning if I could keep the interruptions at bay–hence my temporary case of animal cruelty.
Sounds like you entered a well-earned and joyful rest upon finishing. It seems important to allow the significance to sink in and, as Barbara O’Neal urges, take time to refill the well.
Jan,
You reminded me of the day, some years ago now, that my ‘ending’ was up to be read out loud in my critique group. I was excited, scared and full of anticipation. When the reader uttered ‘the end’, there was dead silence, then…laughter. Someone wanted to know where the last four chapters went. Someone else said in plain English, “honey, this isn’t done.” I know this is somewhat different from the roadblocks you describe in your post, but it gave me a case of ending-itis that took a good while to shake off. I came to see (in hindsight, mind you) that this was all part of the learning curve. Feeling insecure is part of it, too. Self-doubt, plus the terror of finishing one novel and not having the juice to do it again. I was so relieved to discover that others felt these things (and still do!) and that I was in grand company. I love how you simply re-define yourself here. It’s inspiring and instructive. You are a finisher.
Ouch, Susan, that sounds painful, though you’ve obviously worked through that experience and put it into a context which drives you forward.
Yes, for a long time I misread my uncomfortable emotions as signaling something was wrong with the work rather than *part* of the work. At least I’ve figured out that much. ;)
And thank you. You’re exactly right in that finishing that draft allowed me a positive identity change.
Great post, Jan. When I finally could write The End on a draft (after seven years of occasionally writing, getting 30,000 words in, and losing interest) I emailed about a dozen friends and colleagues to share my utter joy. It was an incredible feeling after so many false starts. On my second finished manuscript, I still felt joy, but just told my husband. On my third, I was disappointed in the draft and felt an incompleteness. Now I’m working through the second draft of that one and hoping the euphoric feeling will return when I get to The End with something I’m happy with. Of course, with novels, that first The End is really another beginning–of revisions. :)
After seven years, Erin, I imagine the feelings would be powerful if not downright overwhelming. Would be hard for a second novel to compete.
Fingers crossed for you that this draft will be the one to bring back the euphoria.
Jan-
There are tools to help you get your plot and story done. (Different things, but both shop projects.) There are critique friends to help you through the revision process. There’s the professional world off of which to bounce what you’ve done.
There’s a community to cheer you on, too. (Nice to see you here today.)
What holds one back from finishing, then? It can only be some variety of fear. So what’s the tool for that? Here’s the thing: fear is itself a tool, or maybe a gauge, not of how ready you are but how ready any given novel is. Fear in a way is rational. It says don’t go there–yet. You are not at “the end”. Which most manuscripts are not.
I say there’s nothing wrong with you in feeling unready to finish. I say there’s nothing “wrong” with your manuscripts, either, just more to do. Pick the one, make a list, follow through. The way to finish is to finish. I’ve done it twenty times and I can tell you it feels damn good.
Starting again…now that’s another story.
Heh, Don, I looove to start again. That’s part of the problem. But you’re absolutely right in that I can’t multi-task the novel-writing anymore. I abandoned that effort a while back and have benefited from the singular focus.
Thank you for the kind, optimistic view of my path. I don’t believe my former starts have been false, actually. I will return to them when I’ve got this one where I want it. As for fear, yeah, it’s there; fortunately, I’m learning it doesn’t get the final say in what I do and the more I write the quieter it gets.
Twenty times? Honestly, that’s mind-boggling. Go, you!
Now that’s honesty. And it’s in the cause of the greater good. Highly commendable. And this post is such fun to read. Particularly your seal-startling arrival on the shores of Nova Scotia (I find it interesting that you’re swimming west – is there metaphorical value there?).
Please don’t take this the wrong way (not trying to be braggy-pants), but I think I’m a bit more of a serial finisher. I have as many manuscripts as I have fingers on one hand to count them that have the words “The End” written on the last page. But they all still need work. And, since they are all in a series in the same world, the cumulative effect of work done on one is daunting. Sort of like refitting bricks at the base whilst holding up the rest of the wall on your shoulders, knowing all of those pressing down on you also need refitting if I’m going to have a sound wall. So all of that to say, your lawn may be unfinished, Boss, but it looks a damn-sight greener than my complete but splotchy brown stuff on this side of the crushing wall… er, fence.
May I also encourage you on to your sandy Nova Scotian shores? I always “know” my endings before I get there. But I’ve found that I really don’t know them at all. There is so much insight to be gained, as well as seal-frightening laughter and joy. You might even be inspired to sing along with the angelic chorus. I wept at the end of my trilogy. But as you know, Boss, I’m a sentimental guy. And my tears were for more than mere story issues. But watch out. You may become addicted, and – like me – a serial finisher. Wishing you many happy endings, Jan.
V, my fervent wish is that I can write a blog post in a few years and claim “serial finisher” (SF) as my new identity. By that point I wouldn’t need to write the essay for myself; it would be entirely about encouraging others. As such, I am *thrilled* that you are an SF.
Nor does that label mean you don’t have your own challenges. With my first three unfinished novels being about linked characters, I have some idea about how challenging it can be to tackle so many character arcs within a first project. (Are we masochists or what? You especially, because you committed 100%.)
I’m glad my emotional pain made you chuckle. Gladder, still, that I’d hoped my tragi-comic life would lighten another’s day. ;)
I know I’m coming in late with a comment, but I want to point out that being a serial non-finisher has lots of interpretations, and many stages. Jan I know right now you consider your unreached goal to be finishing a story. I’m like Vaughn in that I have been a serial finisher of drafts, but a compulsive non-finisher of revisions. So my goal is to finish a story to the point where I will let someone (other than my mother and sister) read it. After that, I will have to face my next serial non-finishing problem–researching agents but never sending out query letters. It’s this universality–there’s always some stage, some task, some hurdle, that seems somehow more difficult–that makes your post so resonant. Everybody has something that it is hard for them to make themselves do.
Making the milestones memorable, however, is an active choice. You have to allow yourself the time and space to experience the transformative moment. I know how quietly you live; and you know I’m your soul sister in that. My first reaction when I finish something is to look for the next task, and not to make too big a deal out of my accomplishment. That changed when I finished a graduate degree and literally the last question my advisors asked at my defense was “well, what next?” Not even a second to revel in being done after years of work! Since that made the absurdity of treating big moments like everyday moments, I have tried to make it a point to do something celebratory with each milestone reached–even if it’s just a picnic at a favorite park, or some really bad champagne with a group of friends. I may not feel any different on the picnic, but when I look back on it, it feels better than if I’d just started clearing off the desk for the next project. . . Hugs, and I know you will see it through.
Oh, Jeanne, you are a wise woman and have the eerie capacity to be both calming and inspiring. (WU commenters are universally kind and wise. Methinks I should have written this post a few years ago.)
Yep, you’ve got me on my quiet celebrations. It’s a tradition that began with my wedding and continues to the present day. While I may not have done anything huge at the time, I *did* allow myself to attend a helpful and luxurious writing conference by way of celebration. It felt fantastic, too, because I’d earned it.
I am *positive* you will reach the point where you’ll share your fiction with your betas, and I’m positive you’ll figure out the querying, too. If you’re not prepared to believe that yet, ‘s’okay. The rest of us can know it for you.
Jan–
I don’t have trouble completing novels. I just have trouble saying “We’re done here.” Preferring not to blame the guilty party–myself–I seek something else to hold responsible: technology. I’m old enough to remember typewriters. Back in them ther’ days, no one this side of a middle-ages flagellant wanted to re-type anything, and that wasn’t all bad. But with word processors, the journey from start to actual “we’re done here” finish can be extended indefinitely.
I look forward to reading your future post, in which you theorize about root causes behind what holds you back. For myself, I think it must involve fear of final, summary judgment, both by myself and others. One more read-through, one more edit, I tell myself, and then it’ll be ready. And because each last-ever visit to the manuscript uncovers something to change, surely there must be more changes waiting for future visits. Only when the thing’s been formatted and finally exists as a book can I say “done.”
Is it a good feeling? Not really. Because I know that when I open that fresh, new POD copy of my novel, something will start flashing at me from the page, like a Strobe light.
I remember typewriters, Barry! I have one in my basement, as a matter of fact. I associate the hardware with my early commitment to write and as such experience a wave of nostalgia each time I “visit” it.
As one who always tinkers with my WU posts until the night before they are published, I understand what it is like to deal with perfectionism and fear of being judged. This is where I know a deadline helps.
If you’re self-publishing, it might be near-impossible to establish a valid external deadline. That’s where a trusted professional might help? An editor who says it’s ready and time to move on?
Ah, yes. The first, blissful time I wrote ‘The End’ on a manuscript. It was in the late spring of 2004. November, to be exact. (I’m in Australia — our seasons are opposite to yours.) I’d heard about NaNoWriMo on the 8th of November, signed up, and finished writing my 75K manscript on the 28th.
I don’t know how I did it. Sheer willpower. And taking a couple of sick days from work. Also, I had no children. And the whole manuscript was a stinking pile of cliches. But, gosh darn it, I finished that hot mess of meaningless tropes, and I wrote THE END at 2:45am. The world was asleep — or my corner of it, at least. I typed the words, then jumped up from my seat and laughed so hard, I had to stick my hand over my mouth to muffle the noise so I wouldn’t wake my then-husband in the next room. Then I choked on trying not to laugh, which gave me the giggles, and I exploded out of the office in a sprawling mess of flailing arms and laughter, and fell over in the middle of the hallway. My husband, bless him, staggered out of the bedroom, sleep-addled and confused, and asked me if I was alright. “I finished my story!” I whisper-screamed. And so, since he was awake anyway, at 2:45am on a work night, I cranked the music, and danced around the house laughing like a maniac on speed. (My husband congratulated me and staggered back to bed.)
Oh, it was a glorious day.
After writing The End on my second manuscript, I sat at my computer and beamed at it like I’d won a million dollars. Then I called my Mum and my writing buddy. The next day, I had flowers delivered from my parents (who probably expected to see my book on the shelf the following week — possibly should have explained that better), and my writing buddy showed up with a bottle of wine and chocolate cake to celebrate.
When I finished my third manuscript, I quietly saved the file, and went to cook dinner for the children. I was no less happy, but I was less surprised by my own ability to finish long-form fiction.
Congrats on choosing to be a Finisher, Jan. May your writing of The End be magical.
Now that’s a vivid memory, Jo. Made me smile.
It would seem that the joy of a multi-finisher trends towards sweet serenity and confidence rather than the jagged relief of the first occasion.
Thank you for the kind words, my friend. Onwards!
Congratulations, Jan! You’ve reached a summit! There are others on the horizon related to this completed work, no easier than this first climb. They are however, glorious in their own way.
Like Vaughn I’m a serial finisher. Three completed manuscripts—the first has seen 9 revisions. During the 8th revision I thought my writing life or rather “rewriting” life was my version of NO EXIT because as an actress I never really cared about Opening Night, all I ever wanted to do was rehearse; there was always so much more to explore, tweak, excavate.
Then somewhere in the midst of the 9th Draft—which was the current title as well—I sensed a shift in my relationship to the manuscript. I was coming to the end of a long tunnel and once I reached the end I knew I was ready to share my character’s journey with others. I also knew sharing was a must because I couldn’t go any further without the assistance of others.
Sure enough my Beta Readers zeroed in on exactly what I was missing with my nose so close to the ink on the page. Then as I began the 10th draft a choir of angels did come down, perch on my shoulder and provided me with a real Title for my manuscript. Those three words fit so perfectly with my character’s journey we both have been infused with new energy and purpose.
I am finally so close to really writing THE END for this story I’m salivating—an experience I never imagined possible in spite of how happy I was to finish the first draft all those years ago.
Writing is a series of up hill climbs and each summit has its own glory, which makes the entire journey worth all your patience and persistence.
Keep On and Keep UP! Congratulations!!!
Jocosa, I hope you and all the other serial finishers in the crowd don’t feel any reluctance at embracing that accomplishment in front of me. It’s wonderful to read these stories.
I understand what you’re saying about knowing this version will be your last. I’ve had that experience with non-fiction. In my case, there was a simultaneous sense of peace and pride. Though I had no idea how the work would be received, I almost didn’t care because I knew I’d done right by the material.
Anyway, thank you for the kind words, and yes, I shall persist. As for you? I’m putting away some virtual champagne. ;)
Jan, I knew we were in the WU family, but didn’t realize you are a soul sister! I’m not necessarily a serial non-finisher, it just takes me a looonnnng time to get some things done.
Some of the reasons are things that occur in everyday life, things that pop up and need to be tended to. Others are distractions like Facebook and Netflix.
Another, for me, is something that Don Maas mentioned, fear. Fear that it won’t be good. Fear that if it is good then I’ll be expected to crank out the stories and my life will change too much. Isn’t that stupid? Then something comes along to make me realize my time on Earth is limited. (Nothing bad! Just those thoughts that come with middle age.) And I panic at the thought of not finishing at least one book. There are so many more that are outlined and waiting for attention.
For a long time I’ve hesitated to publicly admit that I’m a writer. Now I’m embracing it and commiting to the writing. When I type “The End” I’ll pop open a bottle of champagne that’s been sitting in my fridge for this sole event. I’ve also promised to buy myself a pair of outlandish cowboy (cowgirl!) boots.
Thanks for this inspiring post, sister!
Yes, yes, and yes, Valerie. We are soul sisters, indeed. (Well, up until the point you mentioned cowboy boots. It’s not that I’m opposed in general but I’ve never found a comfortable pair.)
Let me know when you type The End and I’ll cheer for you!
Hi Jan–
When I finished my first novel, I had no idea how many times I would be going back and working and reworking. I should have had a glimmer, as I’d been writing stories and rewriting stories before that. Pushing to the end is really only the beginning. So keep going!!
So true, Beth. Fortunately, that part of writing is not taking me by surprise. After how hard I struggled for that first draft, if the second came easily, I think I’d be suspicious. LOL. That there gives away my pessimistic nature, doesn’t it. ;)
Jan, you are in good company. I have more unfinished novels than published novels (one). I have two NaNo novels, one 114,000-word hot mess and a couple of really bad starter novels sitting on my hard drive. Most of these will never see the light of day. Along with fear, another paralyzing factor is perfectionism. I never feel that my work is “ready” for publication. There are no choirs of angels or great shaft of light for me. Rather, I reach the point where I can’t work on it anymore. I have to release it into the world. It’s better to take a long time to get it exactly right than to rush headlong into publication. All the best on your current WIP.
Chris, I can so relate. In the landscape of sending out work too early versus too late, my sense is most people trend toward the former. You and I (and Barry from above) are clearly cut from different cloth.
I know I could benefit from external deadlines and am working on ways to build them into my life. Perhaps that’s something you might consider?
As for the unfinished works that will never go anywhere, I refuse to see them as worthless in that with each try I learned something, even if it was what NOT to do. ;)
Jan,
I agree with Don that fear may play a part in the tendency not to finish a long body of work.
But the Meyers-Briggs personality types (Jungian), which I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with, can also shed some light. I would guess that you–like me–fall into the category of “perceiver” (P) rather than “judger” (J).
Js love to bring closure; Ps hate it. (Don is probably a J.) Instead, Ps love to gather more and more data. They love start new projects ad nauseum, which explains all the amazing first chapters in our computer files–the vestigial, haunting ghosts of stories that will never be born. It’s not that they’re miscarriages; they’re just frozen in the womb at the nascent, cell-dividing stage. We’re great at conceiving, but terrible at getting past the first trimester.
My writer’s group had to get hard-line with me to get me to stick to one idea and finish it. I’m getting close to the third trimester, as a result. Like Don says, in order to finish something, you just have to finish it. It’s unfortunate that many of us Ps don’t have deadlines (or, in medical terminology, EDCs) and subsequently suffer gestations lasting ten years or more!
Knowing how you’re wired as a writer (and as a person) can help you accept your weaknesses and develop your shadow side. At least that’s my hope! Good luck, Jan, and thanks for your honest comments.
Nailed it, Edi. ;) Yes, I’m a P. Yes, I am working to develop my J tendencies. Yes, I love your explanation for the differences and cherish the same hope around owning my shadow side one day. (In fact, this is a prominent theme in my fiction.)
Here’s hoping you’ll be posting about a birth announcement in the imminent future. In the meantime, thank you for the kind words and empathy.
Jan, you’re so strong for sharing your feelings with the world. Don’t ever forget that.
As for me, I don’t struggle with finishing, other than being a perfectionist who needs to let go of ‘the edit,’ but I have the opposite problem: starting. Is it because I know the hard work that lies ahead? Possibly. Is it because life becomes more important? It sometimes does. Is it fear of stepping off another precipice, into the unknown? I suspect it might be.
We all have our fears, quirks, limitations. But know this: we also have the power to change.
Aim for the finish line, Jan!
Hugs
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
You always convey so much optimism and energy in your comments, Denise. Thank you for that.
As for the not wanting to begin, if you mashed us together, we might make the perfect writing machine. ;) I love the starting line.
Oh good, I’m not alone!
I’ve a history of not finishing things, but not just writing projects: relationships, craftings, etc.
About 10 years ago I became fed up with this bad habit. I decided to not begin any more crocheting unless I was committed to finishing each item. I managed to crochet about 8 afghans in one year. From there I progressed to sewing softies out of fleece, and yep, I finished them all.
On and on it went. Oh, I didn’t know I had it in me to begin and finish so many things. It made me feel such a sense of satisfaction. Writing, though, well writing is different. I thought I could transfer my track record of finished craft items over into my writing, but it hasn’t exactly worked that way.
I knew at the age of 7, when I wrote my first short story, that I was born to be a writer. I think that’s part of the problem: writing is something that means so much to me that it’s nearly sacred. Because of that, it’s difficult for me to feel worthy of any project I begin.
I have blogged for nearly 10 years now. The other day I went on my blog and began reading the older posts. I’d forgotten so much of what I’d written, and I was amazed that often I published new posts several times a week. That’s a lot of writing!
Currently I’m 12,000 words into a novel I began a couple of months ago. I don’t know if this will turn into another stalled project. I hope not because I really love these characters.
Thanks for sharing your story. I’m determined to overcome the paralysis which takes over when I get about halfway through a story. I know I have it in me, I just need to keep remembering that.
Deb, I’m a finisher in almost every other part of my life. Finances, relationships, classes, parenting–you name it, if I commit I’m all-in. That’s partly what distressed me about writing because I couldn’t understand why I was letting myself down time and again when I have the capacity to follow-through.
I have a good idea now, and like you, part of it is about making the writing stand for more than writing. The good part about “failing” at this to date? I think I’ve separated the act of writing from my identity, which will be immensely helpful when/if I’m published and dealing with outright criticism.
I’ve done this before in another arena, and the work I did from that healthier place was the best of my career. My hope is that will be true for writing, and that I’ll have learned enough craft in the intervening years to be effective in the follow-through.
I hope that makes sense.
BTW, Barbara O’Neal has written about the mid-book malaise before and how she knows it will appear but has to be reminded of it by her partner when she begins to believe it’s a sign her book is doomed. Feelings are not always truthful, fortunately.
I knew it was you Jan, just from the title! Thank you for sharing in your own inimitable way the trials and triumphs of getting to that magical place – The End. I struggle with every project, starting it, getting it down, getting it finished. Fear often stops me at the start, spurs me to work out all the bits between that and The End, then fear of having a book finished – because now comes the hard part. Revising, editing and in some instances re-writing. At the end of all that, what will people think of it? I may never make big bucks from my books, but I now enjoy the satisfaction I get from knowing I’ve done the best I can and that someone, somewhere, may enjoy what I’ve produced.
Heh, Vicki, did you know me by the voice or the implied guilt? (I’m betting on the latter.)
Sounds like you feel the writing challenges are fairly equal across all parts of the process. I admit I’m curious to see if that will be the case for me.
You’re wise to tie your self-esteem to your efforts rather than what’s within others’ control! The Serenity Prayer’s wisdom, and all that.
Jan, always a pleasure to read your posts. And I never expect anything less than honest and authentic musings.
Fear may have paralyzed you, doubt may have plagued you, but I have no doubt that when you set your mind to to a goal you will reach it. You have already achieved so much that required far more tenacity and inner strength. You got this!
And when you get there, you will remember where you were just like it was a major global event! I can still conjure up the crystal clear image of myself on a flight alone to Australia as I typed “The End” to my first novel draft. I looked around me at the sleeping passengers and thought, “Do they know what just happened?” as if it really WAS a global event and they must be able to feel the ripple in the fabric of the Universe even as they slept.
Oh, Deborah, thank you kindly. You have been a goodly cheerleader for me.
And there you go–another writer whose first finish is like a Lennon or Princess Di or Challenger event in that the details remain accessible all these years later. I’m so glad.
Dear Jan,
My name is John and I am a finisher. I am also unpublished, so does that really mean I’ve finished? Well, no, but being a finisher, I think, is more about the mindset of determination, and commitment to always come back, to keep improving–something which requires great passion and drive for what you’re doing–is what will take you always higher and higher.
I’ve written “the end” three times (four if you count the attempt at a novella which taught me I am not meant to write short). It feels good, but I’ve come to see it as a milestone. Getting to those words “the end” in a draft is linear, a matter of sticking to your guns and getting to journey’s end. But getting to DONE, AMAZING, AGENTS WANT THIS is an asymptote–great writers who can bring a book to completion are like those mathematicians who know the right tricks to cancel out the infinities and get a finite answer. Not impossible, but it takes skill. That means getting to that milestone known as “the end” is a means to an end unto itself–only through doing this can you move on and dig into that even-more-terrifying realm called “revision”. But, as with all skills, the more you practice, the better you get, and the less scary the experience becomes. I’m no master of revision, but I’ve been there three times, which is enough to know that, like the challenges faced in drafting, those in revision are no different. Although revision is a deep well that can always take you deeper, like drafting it’s a process.
I’m rooting for you, Jan, to start writing “the end”, so that you can experience the bliss of it, and go beyond. Soon you won’t just be a finisher, you’ll be a story master, and the trail of stories you leave behind will be a journey unto themselves.
Sorry for the several-hour gap, John, between when I started this response and am able to finish it. Aged Ps, you know, tend to require love and time. ;)
I like your definition of being a finisher, because I meet those criteria.
I’m also heartened to hear that you’ve found the editing process to be substantially similar to drafting.
As for story master? Heh, I’ll settle for story-competent at this point. But thank you for the sentiment, and congrats on your own steady progress on the WIP. It’s been inspiring to watch.
This is a great post. I do have a difficult time finishing what I start. Not necessarily writing projects, but projects in general. Writing projects, like the poster above, are the opposite. I have trouble starting. I have been researching my WIP, (which is also my debut novel), for about 3 years. I’ve started, stopped, scrapped it, started over–I don’t know how many times. I am having trouble plotting and populating it with more characters than the main ones. I have honestly tried outlining, which I have a certain aversion to, also to no avail. I’ve tried the pantser way, also to no avail. It isn’t as though I don’t have the ideas, but maybe I have too many. I have obsessed with this book for three years, but it seems as though I am floundering. Is it fear? I suspect that has a great deal to do with it. I admire you for your admission to being a serial non-finisher. Congratulations on your first draft!
Rebecca, the struggle to choose is familiar to me, as is the search for a process that will work. If you’re mostly trying to do this on your own, I’d encourage you to find someone who can help you flesh out what is barren and prune what has grown into an unmanageable thicket. That might mean paying money to an editor who’s available for such “plotstorming”.
Alternatively, you might try a technique which helps me, and which I accidentally discovered. If you can forgive the self-promotion, I discussed it in this post: https://staging-writerunboxed.kinsta.cloud/2013/12/16/whats-a-panster-to-do-when-theyre-stuck/
When I’m finished the WIP, I’ll return to a book which I was able to outline with the help of an editor. I like to do things on my own, often to my detriment, but having her help has given me confidence in the integrity of that story. I can’t tell you how helpful and reassuring that has been. (If you want her name, email me through Facebook or my website.)
Jan, it took Mark Twain more than seven on-again, off-again years to finish Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (and maybe that’s why the ending is a bit clunky). But clunk or not, it’s a masterpiece. I think there’s a bushelful of reasons why we don’t finish things—whether we are Twainlike tinkerers or we get caught in the tornado of insecurities that can seem like a writer’s weather.
I’ve finished a couple of long works of fiction and a few nonfiction too. But I’ve always looked back, because I’ve heard the clunks. Still going over a novel I finished two years ago. So yeah, I feel like it’s “equivalent to swimming the span of the Atlantic Ocean at age 50”—man, are my arms tired. And damn if I’m not a good chunk older than 50 anyway. But I’m still glad for the writing, clunks and all.
Thanks for your blessed stubbornness. We thickheads can start a club.
I wonder what the logline would be for a club of thickheads, Tom. We’ll have to ponder that one, perhaps flesh it out over a beer some day.
I didn’t know that about Mark Twain, but that’s encouraging. I also wouldn’t have pegged you for a person sidetracked by clunks, so thank you for that honesty, though I suspect it’s only a matter of time until you locate the WD-40. In the meantime, nice musculature, dude. ;)
Jan, thank you–this is such a great post and just what I needed to read today.
In the martial art that I study, when someone promotes to fifth degree (master level), the grandmaster gives him or her a ceremonial gift: a brand new white belt. The newly promoted master puts it on at the promotion ceremony, and it’s meant to symbolize that you have completed something big…AND you’re starting over again, getting back to work. I have thought of that image–the master in the white belt–each time I’ve finished a big project: celebrate, recognize the great work you’ve done, and then get ready to dig in again. And the digging in again (whether that’s revision or by starting a new project) is a Good Thing.
What fantastic symbolism, Heather, and a bonus that it comes as part of a ritual. Those martial artists know a thing or two about human nature, don’t they?
I’m delighted that this spoke to you and agree on the value and pleasure inherent in digging. May I pass you the spade?
I’m both a serial non-finisher and a serial finisher. I look at the ones I have not yet finished (many!) and ask myself why. Some of the answers are: It takes a long time to do a novel, sometimes several years; what appeared as a moment’s inspiration can take a huge amount of time….and while I was struggling with it, another subject called me passionately. Or sometimes an agent or colleague insisted that novel B not novel C would be the one to really attract readers and as I loved both books, I took the one more likely to be wanted. But finishing a novel in whatever shape is wonderful! My unfinished ones stand like little hungry children looking wistfully at me, murmuring, “I’ve been patient…you promised…you know I could grow up to be a wonderful book. Never mind that other silly little book you think you love. Finish me!”
But all books are unfinished until they are finished at last. And then I wish I could have them back again to do just a bit more work on them, to fit in that scene or insight…..sigh.
As the mother of a 22-year-old who occasionally gives me the same look, you made me laugh, Stephanie.
You have a Zen-like attitude that’s most appealing. I like the option you’ve left to have the finished and unfinished, and that’s just the way it is in a literary career. Thank you for that.
Oh Jan how I can relate to this post. My problem being I have too many projects. I have finished my first draft and then I realised I have no skills with editing and so I am taking an editing course. So I have chosen two projects I bounce from my picture book to the editing. Its slow but I will get there. I use to find a new idea and start writing it but I noticed a pattern. I never finished. Hoping to stick with the one novel and see it through. My problem with the picture book is the manuscript is finished but I as an illustrator keep doing the illustrations over and over. Thanks for a great post.
If you’re illustrating on top of writing, that’s a whole different kettle of fish, Kath. I can see how that could be a challenge.
It seems like many writers manage to juggle the editing of one project with the drafting of another, so you’re in good company. But based upon the small sample size of myself, I think you’re wise to dig in and finish one project. Good luck.
When I typed “the end” on my NaNo project back in 2008, I jumped up from my desk and shrieked. My husband and high-school-age son came running, and we dove into a group hug. I cried. Then I bought the t-shirt.
But today I define “finishing” as having the book available for purchase. I’ve managed to get Book One of my series to that phase. Book Two is hanging out with the seals off Nova Scotia; it’s time to hit the beach.
I propose we slow-yet-tenacious writers form an alliance: SYT, which can be pronounced with both the short and long “y” sound. Ya gotta SYT in that chair til the end is in SYT.
Thanks for the inspiration, Jan!
Clevery, Iggy. I like your wordplay. You could add that to your t-shirt collection. ;)
Congrats on being published once and having another in the wings. As a fellow SYT I find that encouraging!
Jan,
Forgive me. I twisted your arrival in Nova Scotia into crawling up the beach with the Allies on the shores of Normandy; their trials were just beginning, which is probably the condition of most writers most of the time. If our career continues, we are only finished for a short while before the next manuscript begins.
What is clear from your post and all the comments from writers who know their first draft isn’t perfect (the smart ones) is that struggling to The End is a serial disease, one we must endure not once or twice, but until things have run their course. With each manuscript, we have to get there many times, even if the book has a good outline. In some ways this takes the sting out of the high mountain of finishing. But it does confirm endless peaks ahead.
VARIANTS
Our old friend John Irving (The Cider House Rules) writes the last line of his books first and then begins on page one. I knew the story of my first novel so well (years in the research phase) that, eager to shift the tension of drafting and encouraged by the Irving anecdote, I actually wrote the last chapter before writing the last four. Exhilarated to finally get it onto the page, I flew through the rest. This probably broke many cardinal rules and I haven’t done it with my other novels, but that ending stayed intact through all the other drafts (eight or nine). I present this as an idea/exercise that might prove useful for some of our friends.
And I salute authors everywhere for beginning, enduring and bringing whatever is in their hearts to the world. May we all finish our work.
“…struggling to The End is a serial disease, one we must endure not once or twice, but until things have run their course.”
Believe it or not, my 85%er has an ending and it’s too much fun to consider altering. I can see how powerful it would be to work towards a finish you’re certain of. Thank you for the suggestion!
Congrats on becoming a finisher. That is a huge step forward. I struggled with my first writing project that was longer than the humorous column I wrote for a newspaper for many years. I started the book with great enthusiasm, but the passion for the story was hard to maintain over a long period of time. I think that is the reason that we abandon projects. Something else pops into our head and badgers us like a pesky child, “Look at me, look at me.” :-)
I’ve heard many writers speak about how selective they are about their projects for that precise reason, Maryann. (Not the quick writers, because they’re done and onto the next book before they have a chance to work themselves into a state of boredom.) For me, discouragement has felt like the primary emotion, but now you have me wondering if part of that was the inability to see it with fresh eyes…
Hi dear Jan.
When I finished my first novel, I went and bought myself a green dress. Three days later, I returned the green dress. Three days after that, I slipped into what I call post-partum depression.
After the second book, there was a similar funk (but no dress shopping). I did some reading about this, the letdown after a big creative project. Apparently it’s normal (yay!). But it’s not fun (boo!). So perhaps non-finishers are just really great self-preservationists.
I cannot wait to read your finished books, so please, could you keep on that road to recovery?
(And your posts are always the perfect antidote to Mondays.)
xo!
Do you regret returning that green dress, dear Sarah?
I’ll be curious to see if I experience a let-down, because you’re right, that’s said to be a common reaction.
As for the rest of it, thank you, kind lady. You’re a soothing balm to my ego. (Almost wrote “blam” to my ego, and that would be equally true because you have the ability to shake me out of my lassitude.)
xo
I will be your balm AND your blam. And, if things get rough, I will also be your lamb. But never your malb. That would be disgusting.
I have regretted returning that green dress every day of my life. In fact, if you ever see one, please buy it, and I will pay you back.
xo!
Hi, Jan:
I don’t have much to say that Don and Sarah haven’t said as well as I might hope to.
Don’t be afraid of some inescapable sense of disappointment or disillusion once you’ve completed the manuscript. It doesn’t always happen — sometimes there a great sense of accomplishment (or relief). And if it does happen, there are at least two antidotes: going back to improve the draft through rewriting, or starting the next project (if the first is truly ready to go out).
Don’t be afraid of failing. We all fail with every book. That’s what motivates us in writing the next one.
The finish line is not a wall. Promise.
Aw, thank you kindly, David. That means a great deal to me.
I’ll remind myself about the lack of walls when I’m sporting a fat lip and shiner, okay? ;)
Jan –
Great post.
I do not have the writing wisdom or experience of Donald, David or many of the other contributors but like you I spent decades practicing medicine before I began to write fiction.
Last summer I released my debut suspense-mystery thriller after six years of training, writing, re-writing and extensive revision. I self-published so some may consider my “accomplishment” false, but the readers’ that have bought my book, placed positive reviews and/or personally communicated that they loved my characters and story are real.
I think you will very much enjoy that experience and I’m confident it is within your grasp. Your writing engages people.
In pursuit of a medical degree we worked years living of delayed gratification (Will we be accepted to medical school? Will we b selected for the residency we want?. etc.). Perhaps you are experiencing the same in writing.
Complete your work – it won’t be easy. Find a good editor and publish (traditional or self). Each and every reader that is touched by your work is a success. Finish and claim the reward of appreciative readers – you’ll love it.
On a practical note – do you think that the incredible amount of blog contributing and other effort you are expending might be draining your fuel tank? it would mine.
All the best! Pulling for you!
I’m such a dipstick, Tom, because I tried to find your novel before and must have done the same thing I did today–typed in Coombs for your last name. Found it now, though, and wow, dude, that’s a lot of 5 stars. Looking forward to the read.
I don’t consider self-publishing to be a false accomplishment. Not when it’s done professionally, as your response and reader feedback would indicate.
Thank you for the encouragement and the perspective of another physician. That’s most heartening.
Re the other efforts impeding my fiction: That *was* the case before. You are absolutely right to mention that as a factor. I’m doing only a fraction of what I was attempting a few years ago and that’s made a difference. However, when I go entirely without external deadlines, I find I write less. I’m hoping I’ve hit the sweet-spot of external commitments/creativity right now, akin to the “eustress” phenomenon, but rest assured that’s something I’m monitoring.
Hi Jan.
When I finished the first draft of my WIP, I buried my head in my pillow and screamed with happiness. I couldn’t believe I’d actually finished a novel.
But the thing is, I hadn’t finished. Four years on I’m still revising, editing, slashing, and rewriting that same novel. I’ve decided to see it as my apprentice piece and am savouring the learning process.
I am getting closer to a real finish, but when I do eventually get there I doubt there’ll be as much euphoria. From reading blogs like this, I now know that hardly any writers make a living from it, that representation is difficult to find, and that publication takes years. So what’s the rush?
What really drives me to complete this book are all the other novel ideas I have clamoring for attention. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into them.
Good luck with your journey to the finish line. I hope it’s fun, exciting, and massively satisfying.
Mary Ann
MA, what a healthy and positive way to embrace the time you’re taking. I’d have saved myself a lot of heartache if I’d started off with that attitude. (I believe one reason I’ve been able to push through this far was that I made peace with my tortuous process.)
Donald Maass frequently reminds us that great novels can take years in production and that readers will wait for however long it takes for that author to produce another spell-binding work. Like you, I’m not expecting critical acclaim or money. At this point, it’s sufficient to feel good about the work.
Enjoy your journey!
I finish my fanfiction works but NOT my original stuff… ikr HUH?
What’s the difference brain? Why do you do this to me?
Have I decided somewhere in the back of my brain that fanfic matters less? Or is it that I have an audience there and I know they will welcome it with open arms, when original stuff has to fight to be read?
Maybe it’s both, AM. If the fanfiction feels like play, it makes perfect sense that you’d be more creative. There are functional MRI studies which show that our brains lose activity in the creative centers when we’re coping with fight-or-flight hormones. Also, maybe the demand for the fanfiction creates a deadline which helps you push through the discomfort of writing. Either way, it’s good information to have, right?
I’m late to the party, Jan, and you’ve had so many great comments already. But I wanted to say how proud of you I am and that it is a real accomplishment. Take some time to savor it, and then onward!
Late comments are always welcome, Liz, but thank you for everything, including the encouragement and feedback. It’s been a big help!
Excellent post, Jan! I have finished one project, and am about to finish another. I’ve been about to “finish another” for at least a month, probably more like two, now. I shake my head at how slow I am about getting to “the end.” It took me about two years to write the first draft of my first book, which I blamed on not knowing what to do. I have no such excuse for book two, and it’s taken me a little over two years for that one (when I do finally write the words.) In fact, I’m going to go write on that last scene after I get done with my comment.
I was underwhelmed with finishing the first draft of the first book, only because I knew there was still so much to do, and I really wasn’t finished at all. I think when I hit the publish button on Amazon I finally had that sense of “the end.” With book two, I’m not expecting it to be a magical moment at all. This manuscript is an even bigger mess than the first book was, and I’ll be jumping right back into it to straighten out names, places, logistics, maps, times of day, etc… The only thing that makes me excited about getting to the end of the first draft is that it takes me considerably less time to edit than to write the original story. I know I’m definitely closer to “the end.”
I’ve also been amused with how similar finishing my books are with giving birth to my children. With my second pregnancy I’d thought I’d know it all, but then it turned out that my second pregnancy was totally different from the first. I don’t know, but since writing my second book is totally different from writing my first, I’m thinking each book has its own flavor, its own progression, and that it’s best to just go with wherever it goes, with no expectations. Enjoy each process as its own. :)
Did you write that last scene, Lara? No pressure to do so, of course, but I’d be delighted for you nonetheless.
I can understand why you’d set the publication of your novel as the ultimate cause for celebration rather than finishing the first draft, particularly if that first draft is more of an exploratory one.
As for taking it as it comes, ah, wouldn’t that be fabulous? I like being in control–more accurately, having the pretense of control–so this is an ongoing desire of mine.
Best of luck with revisions. May this baby be strong and healthy.
I don’t have the years of putting aside writing to lament over like so many others. I think in a way that makes me blessed–I have the desire to be a writer to the point where I’m in a university program for Creative Writing. I’ve been writing for six years (writing seriously, that is–apparently I was strongly into fiction writing from at least the age of 9; I have a school certificate praising a story I wrote in third grade). I have finished short stories in and out of classroom assignments. I have written enough poetry to make a (terrible quality) manuscript.
But longform fiction? Finishing it? I’m 5,000 words away from completing the first novel-length project I ever started. I’ve gotten 25,000 and 50,000 words into two other projects between 2009 and today, but I have yet to finish the first draft of the story that first made me think, “I’m going to be a novelist.”
I blame lack of time. I blame school taking priority. I blame myself and doubt myself and think I am a horrible writer simply because I’ve never finished a novel when I say I want to be a novelist. I blame procrastination above all–right now, I should be finishing a final essay for a university course, but instead I stumbled across this post. In my head, I think, “Once my essay is submitted”–on April 23 in the morning, so it’s soon–“I’ll have the time to write and finish that damn novel.” But then I think of all the other things that need to be done, since I just moved temporarily and have to unpack, amongst other things. Will I have the time? Will I have the energy?
And in the back of my head, as I ask myself those questions, behind the initial answers of, “I don’t know,” I can hear the truth from who I am and what I want: I will make time. I am energised while writing. It is impossible for me to get away from it, whether it’s blog posts or poetry or short stories or outlining novels, and I will finish a novel even just for the satisfaction of saying I finished. Maybe the motivation will continue to encourage me to finish other novels’ first drafts.
I’m excited for revision, since revisions on short stories and earlier unfinished drafts made me love the writing process more. I think I’m blessed with that, too, since I know many, many writers dread the revising and editing process. Thank goodness I delight in it, otherwise it would loom over me and make me scared of finishing.
Thank you for reminding me that being a non-finisher does not mean I am not also a writer.
“…being a non-finisher does not mean I am not also a writer.” Yes! Exactly, Coryl. Given your youth and your commitment to professionalism in writing, I would be stunned if you didn’t finish that novel and make it the first of many. Life might interfere with writing on a specific date, but you’re creating wonderful habits and a history which can only help as you go forward.
Having written, edited, and finished two short stories I recently released on my blog, I’m glad for the much needed motivation to finish my longer work of fiction: a novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo in 2009 and left by the wayside once I reached the “winning” 50,000 word mark.
Just a couple days ago, I finally finished re-reading the entire novel to reacquaint myself with the story, and now I’m excited—and terrified—at the prospect of planning the remaining chapters and writing to the words THE END. When I first began the project, my only goal was to “finally write a novel”; thus, I never planned even the first word but just plunged in and wrote, always aware to keep up with each day’s word count.
Now that I’ve read numerous books, blog posts, and other resources on writing, I’m going the “plotting” route instead of the “pantsing” route; I find that in many other areas of life I feel much better about a task—and more likely to accomplish said task—when I’m prepared, thus the commitment to outline and plan the rest of my novel.
Still, the old adage holds true: “A writer will do almost anything to keep from writing.” The terror of getting started is there, urging me to procrastinate further, and it’s a steep uphill battle trying to figure out what steps to take next. Nevertheless, I’m determined to go on and finish this behemoth, edit it, and get it out there.
Wish me luck…and stamina!
My comfort zone is learning, Eric, so I can relate, but that exciting/terror sounds like a great place to pick up your novel again. Wishing you the best in your move from pantser to plotter and ultimately in finishing!
Jan, it’s amazing post! I’m an incorrigible non-finisher with many works that are started but far from ‘the end’. And I think that the main thing that keeps me from finishing them is perfectionism with all the blocks it puts. What if I’m not so good to make the whole story sound right? What if I screw up the final part?
So, after my first great “THE END” I’ve decided that the answer to all that questions should be simple “Let it be”. I will complete my work anyway because that feeling of joy and fulfillment you have once finish the story is incredible.
Coping with perfectionism while writing is like trying to jump rope wearing leg shackles, Pimion. I’m delighted you’re working on strategies to get to The End. As a fellow perfectionist, one thing which helps me is to tell myself that what I’m writing will be for my eyes only. I can always change my mind after the fact.
Also, have you read this parable? I find it heartening: https://www.lifeclever.com/what-50-pounds-of-clay-can-teach-you-about-design/
Best wishes in conquering the beast.
I finished my novel, but keep missing my friend to give it to her for editing. I’ve wasted 6-8 weeks because I can’t seem to get in the mood to write again. I’ve got a half dozen books started and only need to pick one. I did not bother to look up Christian agents to send of my sample chapters to.
Today I finally started writing on the next novel and next week I’ll look up agents. I want 4-6 picked out.
I spent far too much time correcting and changing things so that after a few hours all I had were 2 pages! Each time I sit down to type I tell myself “don’t worry over corrections, just type, save the fixes for later.” And every time I don’t listen to my own advice.
Connie, it seems a pretty common experience to feel emptied out after finishing a novel. Many writers speak of the need to refill the creative well. Sounds like you’re on your way to recovery. I’d bet that perfectionist streak will relax as you go deeper in this project. Good luck!