I am just about to start my last (hopefully) edit of Legacy before I turn in my final copy to my editor. If all goes well, I'll have it finished by the end of the weekend. I'm not sure the technical definition of editing, but here's mine: turning a story you love into a story you hate. Write a book and read through it - oh, I don't know, half a dozen times in a row with a critical eye - and you'll agree with me. I wrote Legacy in 21 days during NaNoWriMo 2010, so I shouldn't be surprised that it needed some work.
Turning this thing in is a very emotional experience for me. I consider my novels ever-evolving, never finished pieces but instead stories that always have somewhere to go, some way to improve. So finding contentment in this story in the stage it's in... well, it's not easy. Of course, I could spend the rest of my life working on it and probably would never consider it perfect. Getting published seems like a very glamorous thing until you get there. In reality it's a ton of work, with the ever-present fear of rejection looming in the back of my mine. Sure, the book's going to press, but now I have to sell the damned thing. Introversion does not lend itself well to marketing oneself.
For whatever reason the American ideal of a perfect life is fame and fortune and being known. All I want out of life, truly, is to become as reclusive as possible and write books until I die. If people want to read them: cool. If not? Well, it's really not going to break my heart too much...