As I polish my manuscript, I feel myself letting go.
It's not that I don't care about the manuscript's quality, or have lost faith in its characters/story. It's just-- it is becoming more and more separate from me.
Sure: it's a bad idea in the best of times to forget the line between work and identity. But in the midst of slaving away, it's 1. normal 2. necessary, to be consumed. Certain work requires dedication to the extent that I *must* see the product as an extension of myself-- otherwise, I would never find the time/energy/faith to complete it.
So, now that I've gone through the brainstorming, and outlining, and rough drafting, and re-writing, and am halfway through the polishing: why do I feel a sort of apathy towards the manuscript? Why am I eager to start a new one?
Even last month, I missed the manuscript when I had to spend time with other projects. I would steal moments with it, though it was low on the priority totem pole.
And yesterday while working on a half-polished section, I found myself falling back into love. I thought: this is a cool story! these characters are so complex! the atmosphere is so intense! the writing is so clean! (Not to brag-- maybe none of that would be true for anyone else. But I wrote the book I wanted to write... and reading it now, I'm discovering it's also a book I want to read.)
Still, I feel this space between the manuscript and me. If no one ever reads it, if it never goes through an editor's hands, and I never slog through draft fifty.... well, I'd be ok with that. Of course it's not what I want but.... I know there are other books.
I feel like the manuscript's period of flux and creation is by and large over. It's ready to meet the world, and I'm ready to let it go.
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