Well, this is it.
I realized today that “Catskinner’s Book” is as good as my current level of skill as a writer can make it. I’ve been messing around with it for a while, moving things around, changing a few scenes, minor tweaks here and there, but I’m just procrastinating.
It’s not going to get any better. I can make it different, but I can’t make it any better.
Okay, still some mechanical things to do, formatting, checking one last time from grammar mistakes, redoing a couple of chapter breaks, but all that is grunt work. The novel, as a novel, is done.
Wow. I really thought I’d feel more excited about that. Mostly, though, I just feel disappointed. Because I know it’s not as good as it could have been if someone else wrote it. I want it to the most fantastically wonderful novel that has ever been written, but I can’t do that.
I wrote it as good as I could. I have to let that be enough.