On Writing THE END


It’s over? Is it really and truly over? I started a few months ago, staring at a blank screen with a flashing little line. It pulsates, that little line. Write. Now. Write. Now. Write. Now.

And suddenly there is a place.
And the place is filled with people.
And the people are filled with stories.
And their world becomes my world and I like their world.
I like it a lot.

I like their secrets and their honesty. I like their selfishness and their caring. I like their fear and their courage. I like their pain. Oh I like their pain so very much.  And I love their passion. I also like their hair. They have really great hair.

And then it is done.

For my whole life, I thought of typing the words THE END as a leap across a finish line, with a ribbon across my chest and my arms raised in a V for victory.

But I’m not ready to say goodbye to these characters just yet. There are more stories to tell.