As I hurtled towards the conclusion of my month-long novel-writing sprint, I had a sudden and devastating realisation:
It was boring.
All the work I had done on setting up the final confrontation, creating interesting, believable, sympathetic villains – and a hero who was perhaps the only one with the right stuff to be able to stop them – would come to nothing. Once I and my keyboard had approached sufficiently close to the end to be able to see it, I realised that my hero, poor old Yadiste, had just breezed through.
As some of you may know, I am in the final stages of NaNoWriMo, which is a novel-writing challenge requiring one to write – as a minimum – 1667 words, every day of the month of November. I have personally shot for 1700 words, in order to give myself a little breathing room. As I sat in front of my computer screen yesterday, enthusiastically wiggling my fingers and waiting for the flow to come upon me, I had my moment of dawning, and realised that I would not add any words on that day.
At least, not at the end.
Yesterday was a day of painstakingly combing my manuscript, exponentially piling on the hardship, until now I am as far on the other side of the spectrum as it is possible to be. In fact, as it currently stands, I am astounded that the poor fellow is even able to stand, let alone to defeat his final enemy. For Pete’s sake, he hasn’t even finished with the henchman yet, and already he’s swaying on the spot.
But at least I have drama now, at least I have interest, and I’ve set the story up for an ending that might actually mean something, that might actually surprise someone. Not the ending I first envisaged, perhaps, but maybe a better one.
Of course, it’s now November 26th, so any ending would be good.
44, 000 words, and today is another day.