Here I am staring down the barrel of Act III and seemingly devoid of words.
There’s something about endings that I struggle with. All the space I seemed to have in my brain at the beginning of the manuscript has shrunk. Where I used to write in a mansion with many rooms now I’m confined to the bathroom, or the laundry. It feels like I need to just get it out and fast. Because who wants to hang out in a smelly loo longer than they need to?
I read somewhere that the end of the book can take on a different feel to the rest, a sense of winding up. I don’t know if this is good or bad. With all the battles, conquering and action endings certainly have a different speed to the rest of the story.
But all that speed seems to force me into this tiny writing space. And, you guys, I’m a bit claustrophobic. (Side note: so is my MC) So I’ve been trying to get some mental space. Slow myself down and approach this section with, hopefully, the wonder of the beginning.
Other contributing factors: please, book, just be done already, I need way more plot points and all the crazy life change that’s happened this month.
But today it’s raining. Pouring down. And I’m going to curl up on the couch with a hot cuppa and dream and write and try to relax my way back into my story.