I forgot another weekly roundup post. LEGITIMATELY forgot. I should set an alarm.
Anyway, I’m going to use this catch-up post as a warm up to get my brain revving before I attempt finishing the next Guides chapter. It’s going to be stream of consciousness nonsense, but at least it’s something.
This weekend, I watched a show called Harlots on Hulu—watched every episode except the last in the season, which I read the summary of on Wikipedia. I’m not someone who has to finish what they started, nor do I force myself to consume entertainment if it is no longer entertaining me. But this habit has made me wonder, in the past, if I suck reaching the end of my own stories because I so rarely feel compelled to reach the ending of a book or show.
Ending things is hard. The energy of the climax is past, and now you’ve got to bring the whole mess home in a hopefully satisfactory way. (That is, if you don’t hate your readers.)
From the side of the reader, the ending may seem obvious, but as a writer, it’s almost as if you’re wearing blinders; what should be clear is actually painfully murky. Even seeing your character walk through a door is rife with angst. WHY is he going through the door? WHY is there a door? WHY won’t this story just fucking end?
(How should this post end?)
It’s disheartening to reach halfway only to realize you don’t even know what the point is.
I’m at work right now, it’s about 2PM. This job has freed me, I’m self-sustaining and can buy all the jalapeno cheeseburgers I want. This job came after years of self-doubt and hard work, and then denial of that hard work, and then more work. What this job really gives me? The freedom to write what I want.
Aha, but then, do I even need to write.
This job gave me the freedom to be an existential baby. If I don’t NEED to write, why do I? Do I want to? There’s an awful lot of complaining involved with something I don’t seemingly want to do. *Stares at navel* Hm.
This post is a trap. I had opened the Guides chapter, which is nearing its end, and then opened a blank document to avoid writing that end, but somehow spawned another thing (this blog post) that needs to end. I played myself.
Although…my brain does feel more lively.
I need to write now
But I don’t know what to write
How should it really end?