Writing my previous post less than 48 hours ago, about a novella that would not end, must have jarred something loose. In the wee hours of last night, I was on my laptop for something else. While I was sitting there, I thought I’d open the file and see if it would happen.

I read a couple of paragraphs back, letting all the imagery and emotional impact of the words flow through my head, without thinking too much about anything but what had already been written. When I got to the dangling end, wrong words came a couple of times.

Suddenly, I was typing. Fifteen words were all it took to finish the sentence left hanging for days. For some reason I do not understand, it took as long as it took for the right ending to come to me.

I learned a long time ago that if I try to force writing I end up with wrong writing. The right words are in there and when they’re ready they’ll come out the way they need to. I’ve just never had it be half a sentence worth of an ending before.

Usually I hate to see a story end. Partly because I’ve enjoyed the process of writing it. Partly because I really am not crazy about proofreading. This time I’m very glad to have typed “The end”. I even look forward to proofreading it. It will be cool to do the first full readthrough of my story that wouldn’t end, until it was ready to wrap itself up in the best way possible.

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