Anyone that I've known who tries to offer their creativity to the public, live in their own private little hell. For me it usually comes in the middle of a project; when it's too late to just give up and too heart rending (not to mention exhausting) to ponder ripping everything apart. It makes me question everything...not just the plot line of the story or what the point of even writing is, but my own purpose, my own worth - the very thing that I am.
It's gutting and I often need to just walk away and let things stew, but that's where I'm at right now. More than half way in to a sequel for "Last Farmer" and I'm contemplating having to redo everything. It's enough to make me want to abandon it all together. It's worse knowing that the predecessor was actually a good book. It's received all 5 star reviews and ratings and now, I have to at least equal it, if not surpass. Oh the pressure!
I'm certain that other people feel this way, be it over a painting, a complicated proposal or sales pitch, a sculpture or even midway through rehearsals for a play. I guess what separates the men from the boys (so to speak, insert women from the girls if that works better for you) is those who muscle through it and those who pack it in. I will not be one of the latter. If it needs a complete rework, so be it, if I need to start from the beginning, it will be done. But I need some rest first, maybe a glass of wine before I get back to working on the sequel.
You have my word people who care! (PS I can count you on my fingers and toes, but you're still important to me!)