There is a lot that goes into finishing a manuscript. But what does that look like? 

After the drafting process, after you’ve either secured an agent or editor, and after the edits have been made, it’ll be time for formatting, book covers, marketing, and release with more marketing. But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. That I’ll cover in another post. What I’m here to talk about is the emotional impact of getting to the publishing stage.  

Right now, I have a poetry collection ready to go. There are some last-minute things I need to take care of (cover, putting it up for pre-order, marketing) but it’s done. It’s been edited and formatted to my liking, so it’s pretty much ready to go. And it’s left me with a lot of feelings. They’re not unusual feelings; I do a lot more creative things besides writing, and whenever I finish a big project, and sometimes even smaller ones, it leaves a void that I struggle to come to terms with. Writing is no different here, especially with long-term projects like a book. And all of my creative friends, no matter the flavor, go through the same thing.  

When you finish something you’ve been working on for a while, it can feel like you’ve been cut adrift. And it makes sense. After all, how much time have you spent working on your book? Days, weeks, and months, of putting words to paper, then making those words sound better, then off to an agent or editor. There will be additional edits, a final proofread (at least if you’re self-publishing), and then what? There’s not much left. If you’re trad publishing, they will take care of things like covers and formatting. If you’re self-publishing, you’ll take care of those things. And then you release it. I learned a lot from my first book release, the most important lesson being that those same feelings apply to writing as they do to other creative pursuits. Feelings of emptiness are common. After all, those words were eating up a lot of your time, even when you weren’t writing. Think about how much time you spent planning what was coming next, time spent thinking about what’s going to happen, plus time researching and plotting (most people plot to some extent, even if it’s exceptionally minimal) you’ve devoted a lot of time and thinking to your work. And now that it’s not there anymore, it’s natural to feel lost. It can be hard to switch gears too, especially if you’re some flavor neurodivergent. But everyone goes through a stage where the looming question is, “what now?”  

I know I struggle with a lot of big feelings after finishing a big project, no matter what it is. And this book, while it’s only about 125 pages, is no different. It feels like I’m coming back to reality after a long time away. It’s strange, too, how things haven’t changed much since I started working on the book, because it almost feels like they should have. I mean, things have changed. But nothing like what I was expecting. I feel like I was on another planet for decades with how much time and energy the poetry book was eating up. And being at this stage, so close to release, it feels like things should be vastly different than they are.  

I want something to fill that void, something to escape to, but I know from experience that I need time to decompress. Right now I’ve been scrolling through posts on social media and chatting with friends. There are more important things to fill the time with, and I’ve tried. I’ve been reading more lately, finishing books to vet for my young daughter whose reading skills have outpaced her grade level by quite a bit. I also have other projects that got sidelined while I was working on my various writing projects, including other writing projects that I put on hold to finish the poetry book and Savior of the Damned. But I need time away from writing in order to give those projects the attention they deserve.  

It’s the same with any creative endeavor, really. I’ve been knitting for about twenty years now, and finishing a book brings the same feelings that finishing a large project does. It’s the same feelings of listlessness, of emptiness, of being directionless when I complete a shawl as when I complete a book. Sure, the shawl might not be fully finished. There are steps that come after the project is off the needles after all. But the project that’s been eating up all my time isn’t there to fill the void, and it comes with the same set of feelings and experiences.  

So, what do you do then? Well, that’s up to you. I find that practicing radical acceptance and allowing myself to drift through life without a major project for a bit helps the most. After that, finding something to decompress with helps as well. It might mean I finish reading the half dozen books I’ve started and abandoned, for one. Or finishing a knitting project that I burned out on and put away for later. Maybe I’ll plan future projects, or write down ideas, but I try to stay away from writing for a bit if I can help it. I’ll indulge in something like baking, which I love but seldom do. I’ll watch movies I didn’t have the headspace for or catch up on shows that got sidelined because the current book was too loud to concentrate. Or I’ll make small things, like cat toys, for my cats and my friends’ cats.  

Finding something to fill the time so you can step away is vital for good mental health. Otherwise, we can find ourselves floundering without a primary coping skill. If you don’t have other creative pursuits, try taking an art class, or a knitting class. Indulge your inner child and pick up some coloring books and crayons. Pick up, or return to, a physical activity like cycling. The sky is the limit. Because writing might not always be there. And if it’s the only thing you do, it can be hard to find something to fill the void with. It’s especially important if it’s a coping skill you use because you should have a variety to choose from. Just know that, whatever you feel when you finish a book, it’s normal. All you need to do is find something else to occupy you while you sort yourself out.