I’m still working on a novel. Finished one earlier this year and edit and revise it when free time gestures, do it. Meanwhile, I’m writing another. Thought I’d have it finished by September’s middle. Did. Not. Happen. I wrote an ending but it didn’t work. Yet it did work.
Why it didn’t work… Well, it wasn’t satisfying. None of the characters liked it. Especially the protagonist. You wouldn’t believe her reaction. The Writing Neurons were also pissed by the ending, and also let me know.
Hush, hush, I told them all. That was just the climax. Now I’ll write a denouement and all will be well. You’ll see.
Snorting, the Writing Neurons muttered, “Bullshit.” The Muses were more restrained, expressing their WTF doubts with a smirk.
Ignoring them, I pressed on. That’s when I realized why the ending did work. It did work because I had to get it out of me. It also worked because I saw that I was aiming toward the end of one story line, involving the main person, but there was a larger story line that needed an ending. I’d become so focused on my main person, I overlooked that other story line.
When I wrote that ending for the story, I killed one trending direction. Doing so freed the character to take over. Completely unaware of where I was going, like trying to find the bathroom in an unfamiliar, pitch-black house, every new paragraph was a challenge. I often rewrote paragraphs several times, trying to figure out what they meant. Is that how novel writing is supposed to go? I actually think so.
Now, I think I see the real ending. I don’t say that too loudly. Don’t want to piss off the protagonist, Muses, and Writing Neurons. It’s hard enough keeping them all in line and moving in the same direction. Like herding angry feral cats.
Got my coffee and a table. Got my ‘puter. Time to continue writing like crazy, at least one more time.
Michael Seidel, writer 
I wrote a screenplay, Two Ships Passing…One Failing. My friends read it and one of them approached me to write his story. We met every Thursday for wings, beer, and the story. I would show him what I wrote that week and he would tell me more of the story. When it was finished he showed it to Ed Norton’s father, who had the cabana next to his mother. The father told Ed about it, and Ed said he liked the story, but a minor role interested him, a priest. So, he got word to my friend to rewrite the story with the Priest having a bigger role. I did, but then I didn’t have an ending. So, I invented one and showed my friend the completed script. He hated the ending and I didn’t see him again for seven years. He had somebody else ghostwrite his story and he published it. I bought a copy and read it. I liked my ending much more. My ending also kept the door open for a sequel. Sometimes, you never know.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sounds like another story to be written there… Cheers
LikeLike
Actually, I put it in a drawer, because it had details that could lead to serious legal problems for my friend, even though I had changed the names and location. Then, when he had his new version published, I took mine out of the drawer, because he told the things I was afraid to make public, and put his real name on the new book. So, with the cat out of the bag, there’s no reason why I can’t shop the screenplay as a work of fiction.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, pitter patter, get ‘er at ‘er.
LikeLiked by 1 person