When the End is Not Near

 I (Donis) have been fascinated by my blog mates' thoughts on ending a novel. (Sybil's fabulous information on the saggy middle is great, too) I agree that the end of a novel is easily as important as the beginning, and boy, it isn't easy to pull off a great one, at least in my experience. Every time I approach what I think is the end of a new novel, I end up having an existential crisis. I'm coming down to the end of a novel. I can see the finish line. Every day I come closer to the day that I write "The End". It's been a slog, but that doesn't surprise me. It's usually a slog for me. Sometimes it almost takes more sheer will to sit down and write than I can muster. Almost. I do it anyway. Norman Mailer says, "there is always fear in trying to write a good book ... I’m always a little uneasy when my work comes to me without much effort. It seems better to have to forge the will to write on a given day. I find that on such occasions, if I do succeed in making progress against resistance in myself, the result is often good. As I only discover days or weeks later."

So I keep writing and try not to think about it too much. Trust my muses. I observe that sometimes too much thinking gets in the way. If I try too hard to figure it out, I become Hamlet in drag, unable to take action. When I do enjoy myself, when I read what I’ve written and find it good, I have a strange feeling of dislocation, as though the words came from someone else. 

So the new book is going right along as expected and I see that the end is near. Until suddenly for some reason known only to the gods, it comes to me like a lightning flash in the dark--I should go about it in a totally different way.

Something like: "If I had a particular major event happen much earlier in the book, the whole story would be much better. The ending would hang together, create a more satisfying experience for the reader. It would make better sense, it would move much faster, it create more suspense. All in all an absolutely brilliant and instantaneous insight. I have to do it."

The only problem is that this brilliant alteration calls for a major rewrite. Suddenly the finish line is no longer in sight. Yes, I am excited to pursue the interesting twist that came to me out of the blue, I am also in a Dostoyevskian mood, all dark and Russian. The end is not near.

Don't Tell Me

   You may remember this comic strip:

    Linus is watching television. His older sister, Lucy, walks up and asks what he is watching.      

    He says "Citizen Kane."

    She says that she has seen it "about ten times."

    Linus tells her that he has never seen it before.

    Lucy turns to walk away. As she leaves she lets drop what "Rosebud" means.

    Linus's response?

    "AAUGH!!" 

I saw this "Classic Peanuts" strip in my Sunday newspaper. I was reminded of it again this week when I was reading a comment that one of my students had made in an essay about a movie that I have seen many times. The student wrote about having been in suspense ("edge of seat") during the movie and being "shocked" and "surprised" by the ending. 

I was delighted that the student had enjoyed the movie. 

And I was reminded of the need to be careful when I talk about movies and books to my students and other audiences (e.g., book discussion groups). 

Some people -- many people -- don't want to know how it ends. They will put their fingers in their ears, shouting, "Don't tell me!"

On the other hand, I'm one of those people -- probably a minority -- who have no objection to knowing in advance who lives or dies or walks away together into the sunset.  

Not only do I have no objection, sometimes I really want to know how it ends. No Country for Old Men? Yes, I cared about the characters. The Usual Suspects? I really enjoyed but could wait for the twist. Am I saying too much by revealing there was a twist?

If the level of tension is particularly high I like to know that the characters I'm invested in will survive -- or, at least, die well. In bookstores, I sometimes pick up a book, read the blurb, and flip to the last page.

I don't mind knowing the ending because I enjoy seeing how the writer gets there. But that's me. I need to remember that many other people don't want to know how it -- the movie or the book -- ends.

I need to keep my student and dear Linus in mind as I work on my historical thriller. My goal should be to write a book that an adult Lucy can read "about 10 times" and still enjoy. . . and that an adult Linus will close feeling satisfied that "The End" was worth the wait.

Luther and the Devil

There is myth that when Martin Luther was translating the Bible, Satan came and tried to stop him from completing his work. The story goes that Luther threw his inkwell at the monster and it disappeared.

 

Although my minor mystery is not very important in the scheme of things, I'm a couple of days from click and send and that's when my demons come. One would think sending a book to an editor is the most triumphant stage in writing a book. A moment to be savored.

 

But no. For me, it's the time when odd impulses start tugging at my brain. In the old days it would have been to set fire to the manuscript. Now it's to hit Control-Alt-Delete. For some reason the same story that seemed just fine a month ago seems fantastic and amateurish at this point.

 

The most frustrating part of writing is the realization that a book can be improved into infinity. However, there is a point when we are in danger of editing the life out of a book. Words begin to look inept. Plots seem improbable. Characters seem unappealing.

 

Self-consciousness is a writer's worst enemy. The most important challenge we have is to banish everyone from the writing room. That includes demons. I, you, we, are the only ones who belong there.

 

The moment we stop to think what will my relations, my friends, my teachers, my priest, my high school principle, the boy who delivers my paper think of this? Is the book shallow? Self-indulgent? Pretentious? Amateurish? Dull?

 

It's important to follow Luther's example and bring out the inkwell in whatever form. Whatever it takes to click and send.

 

 Just do it and send the demons right on back to hell.