Sometimes it’s difficult to find that perfect note to end a story on. Frequently I have a good setting, good characters, and no satisfying conclusion. It’s a sketch, rather than a story. Today, I have the opposite problem. I was writing along, and I hit a great note to end on. Boom. The only trouble is, there’s more that I want to tell, and the ‘more’ part won’t be able to flourish as a story on its own. Out there in the distance I already had a pretty sweet closing planned out anyway. So, onward. It’s not so bad to have a good sentence, take a breath, and move on. It’s just that it had a nice, final feel to it.
A few paragraphs later, boom. Another very nice ending. Alas, the story still wasn’t finished. On I went. I just wrote the third nice ending. Just like the song “Free Bird”, I’m into the third coda. This one is a really nice stopping point, even better than the others. I can’t have the door open now. I just can’t. I’ll just have to find another way to work the remaining parts into a different story. They’re good, dammit! They deserve to be written!
Just not here.
But… Aargh! I read over the story and I set up the intended ending so nicely. One more coda, Mr. Van Zant!
Your new MOH was searching for Suicidal Squirrels on Romanian language Google. I’m afraid Suicidal Squirrels have penetrated deeper into the Eastern Bloc than previously thought. It may be too late to save the ‘Stans.
It pains me to report that the squirrels have recruited as a night squadron their cousins that I am greatly fond of: the bats.
As Pat and I were returning from Heron Lake to Albuquerque Saturday night, one of their number drilled itself headfirst into our grille. It was so disheartening.