The story of my process told mostly in gifs.
Immediately veer off of outline. Write events, plot, dialogue. Things are out of order or don’t make sense. Drop/don’t develop minor plot threads. Overall, though, the story is there, even if it’s skeletal. Think, “Hey, I’ve got this.”
Shove in ALL the backstory and do any major plot overhauling. Stuff in details and setting until draft is bloated and lumpy. Nothing flows. Think, “I hate everything because I suck.”
Pick apart the prose, smooth transitions so scenes work together. Add depth to emotion. Think, “This book is flawed, but I like it.”
Polish and add tiny details. Decide I need to go over it like five more times. Procrastinate because of burn out and barely have time to go over it once. Think, “This book is ONLY flaws.”
Finally, editors are like:
Send in manuscript. Cry because I’ve survived writing another book.
Clean house. Color and binge-watch TV. Willfully forget I ever decided to be a writer in the first place. Attempt to tweet/Instagram/blog about book so as not to utterly disappoint agent.
Hide from the world.
Also: almost throw up every time someone posts a review. Obsessively check Goodreads for new ratings. Hate and love the story by turns. Make a decision.
Come across shiny idea.
Immediately start new book.