Fed Up With All The Misery

We’re always looking for conflict in our stories. Always conflict. How I got into Cezanne’s Carrot, a journal running on the solstice schedule, which prides itself on all things hopeful, spiritual, I’ll never know. As a writer, I’m a miserable person, always with the misery. Oy. In real life, I’m a happy-go-lucky (whatever that means) kind of guy, a pleasant drunk, eager to help out whenever I can. I’m a great listener when I want. But as a writer—holey crap, I’m miserable. The people closest to me have come to accept that this is the way I write. They don’t look for alternate endings. They read and comment accordingly. They expect that brick wall to show up eventually. Do they enjoy the read? Who knows? My wife does, I think, but then, she’s my best reader, my closest reader -- the one person I know will get the gist. She’s had a lot of practice, though, poor thing. But you know what I’m starting to think? Cezanne’s Carrot is onto something good. The best stories have open endings, they grab the readers by the back of the neck, and pull them in, force them to think about the way they’d like to see the story end. You can guide the reader right through to the finish, if you want, or you can give up some of the power. You can say, “I think this is a remarkable story to tell, that unfolded in such and such a way – don’t you think?” It’s what we do. We put down on paper those experiences and events we think are worth sharing, but then we have to give it up to the reader's interpretations. If I’ve done my job right, I’ve got you by the balls from the first paragraph, and by the end, we’re telling the story together.