I've been having excruciating writer's block this week. I'm finishing up a revision of Starting From Here, which has involved writing a new final scene.
Now, I zipped (okay, I don't zip, I plod along at a moderate pace, but still) through several other new scenes dispersed throughout the novel. But this final scene has been a particular challenge. It's the last word. I've got to leave readers with something meaningful. Something that will resonate. Something that will linger.
No pressure.
I made a plea on Facebook. "Help! I need a new last line for my novel." And, because I have wonderful, generous friends, this is what I was able to cobble together with their help:
The night was...the night was...it was a dark and stormy night? And so it was. So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past, something something lesbians something something puppies.
As I walked out of the train door, the conductor tipped his hat and said, “Sometimes, the car eludes you. Happy trails until we meet again.” For a brief moment, I considered starting over; but it seemed easier to just put one foot in front of the other, so I kept walking.
She smiled skyward and glimpsed the small patch of cerulean, growing ever larger—it would soon spread to overtake the clouds. And they all lived happily ever after. Except for the bad guy, who was slowly disintegrated in a boiling pool of acid. And they vowed never to try to train squirrels for the circus again. Amen.
The end.
Or is it?????????!!
I tell you, it makes about as much sense as what I've got.