Wonderful Things

Wonderful things by Bonnie Edwards

As I write this, I have three and a half weeks to deadline. For the last week, I’ve been casting about for an ending for More Midnight Confessions, a sequel to (big surprise here) Midnight Confessions.

I know some writers start with the ending, but not me. I wouldn’t recognize an ending ahead of time if it hit me broadside. Never see them coming. I *think* I see themes. But that's another blog.

At two weeks to deadline, I get fabulous news: an invitation from my editor to join an anthology titled BUILT slated for August 07. That'll give me a single title out in March, the sequel (said ending-less book) and a novella in August. Cause to celebrate!

My contracts arrive (for another anthology...all mine this time) I have to stop looking for an ending so I can go through them word for word. Forgive me for being excited about this, but it's still thrilling to see my name on a publishing contract.

So with two weeks to deadline, I've had some of the most exciting things that can happen to writer, happen to me.

Did I mention another neat way to avoid looking for an ending is to promo my July release, PURE SEX? So, add another exciting thing to my list.

I take a stab at writing through to the end...fizzles out like day old ginger ale.

My agent says there's another editor at a different house interested in getting a submission. (I obviously haven't had enough distraction...the muse had to toss in some more)

One week to deadline now and my July release is shipping! My author copies arrive, my Amazon order shows up, I'm collecting some nice reviews. Yippee...happy dancing all over my house!

I decide a smart writer would begin the boring work of taking out the space wasters like simply, realize, know, began to...my list has now grown to 27 of these suckers. That's 27 search & replace actions. Another fab way to avoid finding the elusive ending.

Six days to deadline. I wake after an oddly restful sleep, full of verve & energy. I have my ending, it wafted through my cramped brain while I slept. I fly to my office. I write, clear in my direction, knowing what I want to happen.

By Tuesday I type THE END. I'm crying because the last scene is the most perfect ending I've ever written. Elements from the very beginning of the first book have been woven into the last scene. Full circle and all that. We wave a fond farewell to our hero and heroine, leaving them well and happy with a wonderful future ahead of them.

And suddenly I know why I write. It's this feeling of lightness, of knowing I fried myself emotionally and creatively to get to this point.

Three weeks of exciting and wonderful things have happened. All the things that make a writer want to whoop with joy.

But it was finding that perfect ending that made me cry. None of the other wonderful things had given me a tenth of the pleasure that ending did. There are more joyful things than offers, contracts, reviews and release dates.

One of them is the perfect ending.