Happy Endings

WARNING: Spoiler alert - if you haven't read Jesse yet, maybe skip this post.  Also, I'm going to speak about fictional characters, both in my stories and in my head, as though they were real people.  If that freaks you out, I totally understand.

 A blanketflower.  Why?  Because it's the only flower in my garden to which I am emotionally attached.

It's almost done.  My second novel.

It's the most exciting time.  Just a couple of chapters before the end.  Everything comes together, the end is in sight, and the words just spill out on the page.  There's nothing like an ending to keep you up writing into the morning hours.

Just a few weeks ago, it seemed like I would never get here.  These characters would be stuck in limbo forever, because I couldn't seem to move forward.

And then I realized why: I didn't want the end to come.

There was nothing wrong with the ending.  It had been planned out years ago.  It was going to be original, shocking, dramatic.  It was filled with so many possibilities for the future.  So many more stories.

But I couldn't do it.  It wasn't the ending I wanted for these characters. 

I know life rarely works out perfectly, and the responsible part of me tells me I should portray that reality.  Jesse got her happily ever after, because I friggin loved that girl.  She'd been through so much already, she deserved every unrealistic, impossible dream come true.  Even her villain was a sad failure - Jasmine's weak attempts to hurt my heroine throughout the book didn't touch her.  I tried to make up for this deficiency with flashbacks, by which I tried to say, see?  Look what she's already dealt with.  Have some compassion.  I couldn't argue with the criticisms that everything worked out just a little too neatly for her.  But I didn't care.  And I stand by my story.

But this next book was going to be different.  It had a real plot, intricate and sophisticated, and everything was going to revolve around that.  The characters were not going to get in the way.  I would not grow attached.

Yeah, right.

I tried.  I really, really tried.  But I couldn't keep them at arm's length.  I'd grown too close to them.  I'd felt their emotions.  The conclusion I had planned for them, although fine in theory, was causing me real pain.  My fingers couldn't bear to type it.

Once I gave up trying, the real ending became quite clear.  I knew exactly what had to happen.  The characters who would drive the change already existed.  They had the knowledge, and the ability to do it.  And, more than that, they wanted to do it.  All they needed was my permission.

So I've given it.  And it will be done in a few days.

As a side effect of my reluctance to finish, I've spent much more time with these characters than I originally planned.  Their stories are fuller, richer.  Fleshed out with even more characters.  In consequence, the end of this book is not the end of my time with them.  It will require a sequel to reach their destination.  I'm not even finished this book yet, and I'm already looking forward to it.