I finished editing my work-in-progress two nights ago (two years and five drafts it took me). After I read the last sentence, I exhaled a deep breath of contentment and thought that I was finished; I was happy at last with the structure, the characterizations, the descriptions - it felt like my main character's world was exactly as it should be, true to him and his nature.
But the next morning, as I sat on the sofa with my cup of coffee, I felt my self doubt rise faster than the steam off my coffee.
Could I really have finished a full-length literary work? Isn't that something real authors do?
Am I just fooling myself? There must be something I have missed in the process! Maybe I did not focus enough on the secondary characters?
And so on.
You get the picture.
Or maybe it is just part of our nature as writers, never to be fully satisfied?
Whatever it is, I am moving forward!