In October, I had delusions of being finished with the fifteen-year-old novel. In November, I conquered one of the hardest things about writing: allowing my first reviewer–my wonderful husband–to look at it. Today, I face an equally large challenge: rewriting the ending. Again.
“What is happening is good,” he said, “but the tension isn’t there. And the ending…”
I begged for him not to finish. I had already filled in my own appropriate adjective. Cliché. What I hoped it wouldn’t be though I feared it was.
He was going to say it in a nicer way, but that was it. With a few suggestions and encouraging words, I trudged back to the drawing board.
Why do I fall into the trap of clichés? Good question. I suppose sometimes I read them too often, and though I groan at it in other people’s works, they still come out in mine. And they come out despite my desperate attempts to be original. Then, when I fail, I have to take an honest look at my mistake, take a deep breath, and try again.
Sometimes it’s discouraging. Especially when I’m sick to the teeth of working with the same story over and over and over. But I remember how much I love writing and the little world I created and somehow I find enough motivation to start again. After all, at least the whole story isn’t rubbish this time…
Fortunately, while sighing and wondering where to begin, I found some advice from CS Lewis:
“… no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.”
And so I open up the story in Word–whose title is followed by Version 7: Draft 5–and clear my mind and ponder how I can tell the truth. Maybe, just maybe, this will be the final “the end.”