Finishing

I can't believe I haven't posted in a week, but at least I know I have been working. My current novel revision is one fleshed out scene away from being complete. And it's fun, and exciting, and I'm relishing the thought of sending it off to beta readers for a good swift bashing.

I'm also grinning at the thought of working on my mermaid novel again, now that this task is almost complete. And I have a play I am desperate to turn into a full-length. And my veggie books are calling me longingly, like sirens.

The piano, too, feels neglected, as do my watercolors. Can I tend to it all? Probably not, but it's nice to be called to, nice to know I have a TON of things to do once this project is finished. So, as with last week, along with three hours of scheduled Zumba fitness today, I have a bunch of other possibilities. The chance to finish a revision is at the top of the list, too.

What feelings does finishing conjure up for you? For me, it's a deep sigh--and perhaps a drink--before beginning on another exciting project. It's a sense of a job well done, a task no longer on my list of things to do. A closure, rather like the last performance of a play's run, the final meeting of class before we all go home, the final entry of grades for the semester.

It's one of my favorite feelings in the world, though it comes with a sense of loss.

What about you? What have you finished lately? How did it make you feel? I'll read through your entries once my scene is complete. In the meantime, happy writing/painting/coloring/singing/playing/doing/FINISHING!!!

The Art of the Narrative

I've finished up the ending of my Thomas novel (finally), and while it isn't very good yet, I know it will get there.

Nothing is as awful as a bad ending. The ending is one of those elements crucial to a good book, for if it tells too much or wraps up too little, doesn't make sense, or takes everything off on some weird tangent, readers will be disappointed. Jung claimed that we read so that we can "practice" our own endings, so endings are especially meaningful to us as readers.

I was reminded of this as I put my kids to bed last night. Since our books are still packed, and will likely be packed for a few more weeks (ugh!), we told stories to each other. I started things out, putting together a goofy story about a purple, hair giraffe who ended up living in northern Canada. Then my son told a story in three sentences. His typical method of creating plot is establishing that something is stupid:

Once upon a time there was a red crab.

He was very stupid.

The end.

Dreadful. Naturally, I didn't tell him it was dreadful, but I my mind, buzzing about my own ending (to be written once the kids went to bed), took note of the fact that an ending which comes too quickly (and says too little) won't be satisfactory.

My daughter, not to be outdone, told a story which started out very well... a leopard who ate all his friends and had to learn non-violence if he was to not be alone in the world... but she continued the story long after the climax had occurred, carrying through for nearly ten minutes to express how he met a girl leopard, they had eight cubs, and the reformed leopard taught them how to hunt and kill (no joke). By the end even my eyes were rolling.

Again, my writing brain jotted down the reality that an ending, if too drawn out and too filled with nonessentials, could really bore the snot out of readers.

Perhaps a balance should be struck. What do you think should be in an ending? What endings do you tend to love or hate? Why?

A Ruined Ending

My children and I spent a week without Daddy... and we were having such a good time (despite the missing Daddy, which was pretty much a constant)! Last Friday we made a list of "Fun Things To Do," and we did all but two of them (playing Twister and riding bikes). No tantrums, no real fights, lots of movies, cooking, shopping, etc. We went on all sorts of adventures, drove all over the area, I taught the kids how to play Uno, my daughter cooked her first dinner (lasagna), etc.

We were at dinner last night, only a few hours before we were to go pick up Daddy at the airport... and everything suddenly went south. My son, the moody one (gets that from me), decided his dinner isn't coming fast enough. He started to get mad every time some other table got food, and he didn't.

Trying to distract him, I asked, "So, what was your favorite part of this week?"

His answer: "Nothing. It was all boring."

Yes, he was just being moody and tired. Yes, I shouldn't take it to heart. But I do. I spent so much time playing around with my kids and doing goofy stuff--not writing, not sitting them in front of the television, but being a VERY active parent--and the mood thing hurt me.

Now I look at the big list, the one we've been checking off all week, even drawing smily faces where we really liked what we'd done, and I just don't feel happy about it.

It's like a book that is going well, going well, going well... and then its ending stinks. I read the last few paragraphs, my stomach sinks, and I wonder, What the hell was that? Is that the end? Really? It's not missing a chapter?

I believe Carl Jung suggested readers read to "practice," as if each fictional story is practice for their own life's ending. An ending is satisfying if it happens the way we wish our own lives would go--the hero winning, balance restored, happiness, or at least resolution. When it doesn't satisfy us, it does so because the outcome is absolutely not what we would want, or it leaves us hanging in some limbo, waiting until the next book comes out. The second one just ticks me off. The first reason, though, makes me wonder... what if my desired ending isn't someone else's?

What if my son's snide attitude was his way of not regretting the end of the fun week? What if he fears that the fun is over (now that Daddy's back), so he's negating the fun so that he doesn't miss it? And he doesn't understand the effect on his readers (i.e., me and my daughter) and doesn't realize the ending won't work for us?

We talked about the week again last night, and he made it very clear that he loved all sorts of parts... especially Uno and garage sale shopping (the second wasn't even on the list!). Perhaps a little sleep, and an assurance that the fun is not over yet, will help change the ending for us all.

Deus ex Machina, or the Stupid Solution

I just finished another Pride and Prejudice knock-off. After my last experience with Regina Jeffers' awful book (bashed in a previous blog entry), I was reluctant to try another one, but I checked out Mr. Darcy, Vampyre from the library anyway.

Let me say, first, that it was a FAR better book than Jeffers'. Her level of plagiarism and horrid grammar made me gag for two days straight. This book was far more original, and began with the wedding, leading through to Elizabeth's final discovery that her husband was a vampyre.

What I hated--and I mean hated--was the end. Instead of resolving the problems the book accumulated through some known means, Amanda Grange (the author) pulled a rabbit out of a hat, inventing in the last 20 pages a solution for all of it.

It isn't just this Deus ex Machina I hate. It's any solution slapped on the end of a plot line because the author(s) cannot think of a fix that is integral to the rest of the book. As I write, perhaps I am better at creating the problem and building the tension than I am at finding the solution. Perhaps the solution only comes as I write, and I don't plan for it. However, once the solution has been found, it is my job as a writer to REVISE with that solution in mind. Grange's book's ending tossed all of the suspense and conflict on its head, essentially wiping it out in simple ways with an invented wash cloth of sorts. It's as if she'd written her characters into such a hole that the only way out was some weird prophecy.

The Sherlock Holmes stories had this problem, offering "solutions" to the mysteries only through cryptic details at the last minute, details none of the readers would ever be able to pick up on, but at least some of the clues were there already. I like it best when a plot contains the solutions, yet I miss them, and the ending is a surprise. Then I can re-read and see all the clues I missed the second time around. That, to me, is satisfying.

Now, here is one place this worked for me, and I'll explain why: At the end of Disney's The Little Mermaid, when Triton sees that his daughter loves Prince Eric, he magically gives her the legs she wanted, and she gets to live happily ever after. One could certainly argue that this last-minute "fix" was a deus ex machina. However, Triton could have done the same magic earlier, except for his prejudice against humans and dry land. It takes his near loss of his daughter and personal witness of Prince Eric's bravery to change his mind. You see, the plot isn't really about Ariel's becoming human, but about her father's acceptance of her choice. And that makes his act all the more potent and meaningful, as well as something we could have seen coming (though I was surprised the first time around).

What about all of you? What endings have struck you wrong? When has an ending seemed forced? When has it fundamentally changed what you thought you were reading?