As a reader, the beginning is everything to me. I need to be pulled in completely during the first page, but the first sentence is preferable. As a writer, the ending of a book is something more to me. It’s usually the part of the story I see first, and it is always where I drag my feet when I get close.
To reach the end of a story is just that. There is finality there that is untouchable. As I near the end of my first draft of, A Stoy Unwritten, I can’t help but feel myself slow down with reluctance. I can reach out and touch the last two chapters, but between you and me, I don’t entirely want to write them. Creating characters and learning their goals and fears is new and exciting. Endless possibilities are in the air. The arc building is starting to happen. Birds are singing.
Now, I realize the completing my first draft is the beginning of a very long process, but writing the ending for the first time is big—to me at least.
These were the thoughts circling through my head as I started compiling my notes to finish up this draft and verify my word count for NanoWriMo2015 before putting marshmallows on sweet potatoes. I decided to write it down so that it was safely out of my head, and then perhaps fishing up today starts to come out a little smoother.
Often, I picture a mess of words in the shape of a bull.
Anyway, I’m off. With me luck.