Starting a project is one thing, but knowing when it’s finished is something completely different. How to tell when creativity is expressed in its fullness? How to recognize the difference between resolution and obsessive tinkering?

This is an ongoing scenario I’ve been processing since the tail-end of the pandemic, when the idea for a story arrived with force and vision, seemingly straightforward in its expression, but has since continued to evolve, going in directions I never expected at the start. The original idea unfolding into a story, which then developed into a novel. The two novels I wrote during the pandemic (The Pale Queen and Witch 6) also proceeded in this manner, seemingly imbued with their own momentum.

But this new novel is an expansion of style for me, the writing differing from that of my previous novels. A different setting as well—our own world (albeit on an altered timeline).

First-person narration and real world references had the ideas flowing so much so that the words seemed to write themselves. Even the images of a cover appeared in my mind’s eye, ready to be sketched out. And in a blink it was all done; ready for beta readers. The next step was to integrate their notes and get it cleaned up for a content editor, but at this point the story shifted before my eyes. Layers emerged. Angles adding to the structure. And then it was done, again.

Except, now it didn’t feel complete.

Something was missing. An unknown element. A crucial ingredient for proper flavour. So I set the story aside, gave it some space to breathe. Several months later and another round of edits—more layers, more angles. Still not quite right. Set it aside again.

Shifting my focus to other projects (quite different in style and format) I put this story out of mind. And as is so often the case—BAM!—fresh insights and copious notes about the original project. Back to the story, since it seemingly wasn’t finished with me yet. There was more to tell and I was genuinely surprised at how it all seemed to fit together, despite (or perhaps because of) radical changes to the storyline. Now it feels ready.

That invisible absence disappearing.

So I set it aside once more, just to make sure. Sent it out to a beta reader (why not?). Last step is a brief edit to get this new storyline straight in my own mind. Then the manuscript is off to an editor. Receive their feedback and make any necessary changes. Will it be ready then? Complete? Guess we’ll find out.

This shapeshifter of a novel has been a joy to work on; endlessly surprising. Almost like it was testing me, gauging my sincerity as well as my openness to change. Its form gradually coming into sight as my perspective became more multifaceted.

So how to know when a creative project is finished? When it tells you that it is. When it shows you the fullness of its reflection.