(no subject)
(Yes, this is me procrastinating on doing just that. Why I'm not procrastinating by doing something useful, like coursework or the 50,000 books I need to read for English, I have no idea.)
I have at least one other fic I started, got very near the end and then simply stopped writing. (No worries about that, though, it was one of my very first fics ever and was by all accounts on an appreciable level of crappness, so not finishing it was probably a blessing.)
It's just... endings can be so hard to write. I mean, you've spent all this time building up to the climax, all the tension and drama and fear and what's-going-to-happen building up and up to this one point, and it's such a massive thing that it can be quite frightening to write.
ESPECIALLY when reviewers, friends and betae alike are all expecting things which actually aren't happening, not anticipating things that are going to happen, and yes, I know that the element of suprise is meant to be a good thing, but it is worrying when people say, 'I'm really looking forward to seeing X!' when X isn't going to happen.
And then of course there's the fear you won't write it well and it'll end up crap. And you won't do justice to the ending, or no one will understand the complex thing you're doing with the magic, or...
I'm rather nervous. You might be able to tell.
I refuse to comment on how truthful the following letter is.
Dear Father,
As your loving and ever-respectful daughter, a word to the wise: I suggest that, when your wife and daughter are out of the house, and you likewise leave the house, you do not leave your computer downloading files from Kazzaa with names like 'Babes in Pornland' and 'XXX', lest the aforementioned wife and daughter arrive home early and wish to use aforementioned computer.
While your esteemed and quick-thinking daughter, i.e, me, quickly assured your wife that 'Babes in Pornland' was 'a comedy film, wasn't it? It was out a few years ago. A bit like Calendar Girls, I think. Supposed to be quite funny.', she is going to save this up for use as blackmail. Because it's too good not to.
With love,
Your daughter.
P.S.: Sixty-five and watching Babes in Pornland? Now that's impressive.
In other other news, I really dislike parties. I tend to get rather bored at them, and seem to spend my time dancing with people so they won't go for more alcohol and get even more drunk than they already are, ('Nooo, don't get a drink, dance with me! You can't dance with a bottle in your hand!') and dancing with other people (or the same people) in order to distract their attention from one or another of a pair of star-crossed lovers so that aforementioned lovers can slip off for a cuddle (or hopefully a snog, considering the SEVERE PAIN my toe was in after a friend trod on it with her rather sharp heels. Least they can do is use the opportunity well.)
Right. Enough procrastination...