The Story That Ate My Brain!

So, I've finished my second novel, a fantasy with a rather cumbersome title. 
Actually, I finished it a few days ago and have been working on edits and read-throughs.
I am babying the fuck out of this one, people. 
Why?
Because it was a holy terror to finish.
Normally, when I write, it just flows.  But this one? This one came in fits and starts, shuddering forward and then lumbering to a stop. There were times when I wanted to delete the file.  There were other times when I wanted to pick up my laptop and hurl it out the window.
Even as I was writing it, the story squirmed and twisted. Nothing new there, that happens with everything that I write, but this time? This time it just felt malicious, like the story didn't want to be finished.
Initially, this story was my rest piece, my alternative to The Sequel.  I often referred to it as The Other Story. Soon, though, it became the Only Story.  I couldn't get The Sequel into gear because this story was devouring my brain.
Writing this thing became less an act of creation and more a contest of endurance, a test of will.  Overall, it was a bloody pain in the ass.
You know I'm having problems when I talk about the details of a story.  I never talk about what I'm writing on except in the vaguest terms.  But the other week, while visiting my Mom, I sat down and expressed my frustration with the story.  She asked what it was about, which led me to sit in her living room and just sit there and tell her the entire fucking story.  I never do that, but this story is the first one I've written that has made me seriously doubt myself.
However, it's done now.  Finished.  I've done two read-throughs and finished my edit. This Monday, I submit it to my new Editrix, and while she's going over it, I shall be considering cover art.
God willing, I'll have the damned thing online at Amazon before the Xmas season.
Wish me luck. - MEL