popular belief, they’re not, “I’m sorry.” Or, “You’re right.” Or even,
“Colonoscopy, please.” Sometimes the hardest two words for a writer to pen are:
No, I’m not
kidding, and yes, I hear you. "What
the flippity-doo-dah is scary about that? Centipedes, I might understand. A
herd of rampaging gorillas is a valid fear, especially if they’re toting AK-47s.
But this . . . sheesh . . this is just plain stupid. Writing the grand finale
is the fun part you big idiot!"
Yes, it is fun, but
there's also a certain amount of trepidation involved. Were all the loose ends
tied up? Is it satisfying enough? Is the ending too abrupt? Too drawn out? Why
am I in this handbag and where am I going?
whiz through this stage of the game, but there are many who wrestle with these
demons. You are not alone. And you, like me, have to deal with these burning
questions because otherwise they'll hide in the corner and grow into spiders
large enough to star in a cheesy horror flick.
What to do?
There aren't any easy answers, but here's a plan. Grab a Sharpie and write the
following three inspirations on sticky notes, then fix them to your screen.
This is only a rough draft.
Get words down
on paper and then you can change it later.
Trust your critique partners.
If your ending
is giving off an odor like the rotten potato I found in my kitchen drawer last
night, trust that they'll point out the stinky parts.
Write for fun.
Sit down and
write for enjoyment instead of for the purpose of writing The End. If you're
tense, it'll show.
There will come
a day when you type ‘The End.’ It will be magical and satisfying. Go ahead and
celebrate the moment in sweet, ignorant oblivion.
Because there is something else barreling down the pike, aimed for your heart.