How DONE is never done

Last night I clicked the checkbox for “completed” on my weekly Wattpad serial and leaned back in my chair.

I was done.

In short order, I amassed a handful of “likes” and comments. People were glad I was “done,” it seemed!

I was glad, too. Except that when I sat down to tinker with that last chapter, there was a nagging sense that I was not actually done, and would never be done. It made me nervous. Should I click that checkbox and delude people (inadvertently!), or should I hesitate and think about it some more?

I filled in some obvious gaps in the last chapter. There was one place where I had changed a material decision in the hero’s life, so that had to be mentioned and then explained. There was another where the events in the narrative seemed to be in the wrong order—or were they? I couldn’t remember if I’d made those changes to earlier chapters.

Was I going to confuse people? Hmm.

One of the virtues of being older and not younger is that you know your own follies and faults all too well. And, if you are lucky, there are people in your life who know them even better than you do. My particular obstacle is always going to be, as Seth Godin calls it, “shipping.” It’s hard for me to share what I’ve made. I’m always afraid of rejection, ridicule, humiliation. It’s performance anxiety writ large, on a giant stage.

So I clicked the checkbox and let my baby go.

Next week I’ll send her off to a copy editor and if all goes well, it will hit the shelves at the end of August.