I don't know why writers always talk about how great it is to write the last chapter or last scene of a novel or story. For me, it's the worst part, because just as I'm reaching the end, I start to realize how many things I fucked up in the previous "xxx" pages. It usually takes all my self-control to push through to the end, and not start revising and chopping away, or simply abandoning the whole mess. I'm now at the last scene of my novella, and sweet baby jebus is it all such a craptacular mess. But if I don't make myself write it, I'll never finish this damn thing. And I want it done and outta here.

In other news, I have good news, but I can't blab about it yet.

And last: I thought for about 1/8th of a second about writing a pirate story for one of the many kajillion piratey projects floating out there, but that was as far as it got. I have no desire to write about pirates. Pirates don't interest me. Now, if someone wants to create an anthology about scientific/exploratory expeditions to Pacific islands, African countries, or Hyperborean climes that go horribly awry, I'm there. Pirates? Not so much there.

However, in that 1/8th of a second, I did consider rewriting my trunked steampunk novelette "The Girls of the World" into a steampunk pirate piece. It already has ships and water and hostile takeovers - plus, I'm lazy that way. Making it a pirate piece won't work, I realized, but it did give me an excellent idea of how to fix it. So maybe there's some good to contemplating pirates, after all. Arg!

Labels: revising