The End and The Beginning

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Many years ago, when I was a child, my mother and I watched a movie (or perhaps it was a short drama program) on television. The story was about a woman who loved a man from afar. She existed on the edges of his life, witnessing the important events of his life, but she was never introduced to him and never did she have a relationship with him, except for in her own mind. At the end of the show, she died, an old woman. In her last hours, the man read a letter she had written to him, but when he arrived at her home she had died. As the credits rolled, the screen showed “The Beginning” instead of the expected “The End.”

I have been thinking lately how things do indeed come to an end, whether we expect them to or not, and that endings are sometimes filled with dismay, but may also be filled with hope for the future or even dread of what may come next.

All of this is leading up to something, I promise.

When one reads a short story or a novel, the ending should be memorable. That’s not to say that we, as writers, must kill our characters or make them suffer at the end. The end, though, should resolve our characters’ dilemmas and problems. I love a happy ending, but I rarely write them, at least so far. My characters won’t have it! Not yet. It well may be that as I develop as a writer, these unruly persons will fall into line and agree to become happy at last. I can only hope. There. I have ended with an upbeat note!

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Written by A Character

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So….what does everyone think of this idea? A blog post that is “written” by a character from the author’s writing. I think it’s a great suggestion. (Thanks Facebook pages).

Character from a novel in progress:

I hate the way my former schoolmate has got famous. Okay, so not famous like across the country famous. But popular, let’s say, in my hometown. She’s got Followers for godsakes. On Facebook. She has a band, a country and oldies rock band. And she’s the lead female singer. She’s the only female in the band. Like she’s always wanted the attention and now she’s soaking it up, while I work in an automotive shop as the general clerk and gofer.

If I was less sure of myself, I’d probably be jealous. I’m not though. Jealous I mean. I am proud of the way I got out of my depression, when I was bullied in high school and got enough confidence to find a job where I have to meet the public every day.

We ran into each other one day, and that meeting made me stop and think. I wanted to improve myself so that she won’t ever be able to feel all superior again. I will do it. I’ll lose weight and fix my hair and buy new clothes and then I’ll feel better about myself.

Let the changes begin!

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