Post-Draft Nervous Breakdown

This week I witnessed a writer going through the shock of sending a manuscript off after years of work. She was hurting bad, and just when she was least expecting it.

The first time it hit me--what I call post-draft nervous breakdown--I was expecting to feel jubilant: I'd finished a novel! I'd gotten it off my desk! at least for a few days. But what happened instead was the rushing-in of all kinds of mental garbage to fill the void. I found myself enraged over things that would normally be mildly irritating. And I was certain, without reason, that I had cancer, which I didn't.

I've since learned that this experience is very common. And it does go away. For me, it has never lasted in most acute form for more than three days.

Though I don't have kids, I think it must be somewhat like a quick hit of Empty Nest experience. The object of years of intense focus is leaving the house. Actually, the book doesn't even have to leave the house; I've had these little bouts merely from taking a break between drafts one and two, or five and six. It's the sudden empty mental space that, for me and lots of other writers, has led to turbulence.

I've found, though, that it's not necessary to keep going through such misery. Perhaps I've grown more accustomed to the process of letting go of a book. For whatever reason, I don't suffer so much at these times now. Part of what has relieved me, I think, is realizing that it's a temporary and normal response.