February 25, 2010

The End

I am after The End. I mean, chasing after it. Barreling toward it. Slamming myself against the wall in front of it. Why? Because I keep starting new stories without ending the old. Not that I don't know how to end a story. After writing well over a thousand pieces, I am perfectly capable of tying the knot. Of clipping the strings.

But right this second, I am working on five pieces in various stages (well, more than five—but five main ones). You know, like when you eyeball your jeans drawer—there are the crisp new ones, the semi-beat-in ones, the holey ones, the cut-offs... That perfectly describes the status of my stories right now. I've got one almost done—so I guess that would be the Joes' Jeans that are well-worn in the seat. And I have the crisp indigo one—started about an hour ago. (I've told you that I was responsible for the denim wall, right? Back when my bosses thought I might be a life-time Gapper.)

I almost don't want to finish these, though. I like the characters. I'm enjoying myself. Swear, these particular 501s hug my body to perfection. Of course, if I do reach the end, then I guess I get to buy—I mean start—some more.


P.S. I'd wear this one a lot!


Jo said...

Nice analogy :)

Thomas Roche said...

I've been having a lot of trouble finishing stories lately. I seem to begin a story a day and then abandon them 2,000 words in. "The End" is such a satisfying thing, too -- my favorite part of stories or novels are always the ends, to write or to read.