As I was wrapping-up the second draft, prior to the Christmas holiday break, I was in a good place creatively and (by extension) emotionally. I need to make things, need to make progress, have to keep pushing until a project is complete. So sitting and writing everyday had become an enjoyable, comforting ritual. I felt good as I was writing and I felt good when I was done for the day.
Where that daily process once was, there is now a vacuum.
Getting some distance from the book for a while is a necessary step. Without it, I don't think I could edit effectively. But waiting is no substitute for creating. Waiting does not fill the vacuum.
So, I have tried to keep occupied with other things. I am finishing the layout for an artist book to send to my book dealers, I'm working this blog, submitting some stories and poems to journals, entering a few exhibitions and I've started a new novel; at least started taking notes and writing short snippets.
Being busy helps, but it is not a cure for what ails me.