When Enough Is Enough

This is a bit of a pickup from my last post, and I feel that it warrants its own piece. This novel has been taking up space in my mind for so many years that even writing it now feels surreal. I am pleased with my progress, and perhaps I'm jumping the gun a bit, but my thoughts turn to some concerns that I've had in the past. How will I know when it's finished? And how much revision is too much? Most everyone has heard stories about authors who have penned one, perhaps two masterpieces in their lifetime and not much else. Both tragically and romantically, these authors took years to write their novel, and years still to revise it. Now, I'm not claiming to be writing a masterpiece, but I want to do the best job that I can. If I have convinced myself that my novel cannot be broken, and that it can only be changed, then I must also figure out where the change must end. I do believe that an author need not fuss and pick through an ocean of subjective minutiae to land upon a satisfactory revision. When the first draft is finished and I must tackle what may be arguably the more difficult task, I'll need more faith in myself and the story than ever. I sincerely wish I had something more concrete than this to work with, but blind faith has gotten me this far and I suppose I must commit more staunchly than ever when the time comes. Even with hundreds of test readers and thousands of edits, I won't be satisfied with the finished product until the story and I can agree that it's good enough. After all, success is never measured in total perfection. (And again, what is total perfection?) There may be some poetic beauty in agonizing over an edit for half a lifetime, but there is also beauty in listening to the story when it tells me that it's finished.