This reminds me of a similar writing analogy that has stuck with me. A homeowner finds a beautiful vase and puts it on her living room mantel. It looks great only now the mantel looks shabby. She changes that and realizes the walls are the wrong color. The living room is repainted, then the hall would look better in a different color and, well, it goes on. Soon her entire house is just lovely, but when she goes back to her living room, that beautiful vase no longer fits. She realizes she needs to take it down. Sometimes our darlings no longer serve the beauty of the whole.
One might call this an illustration of an artist trying to not put a round peg in a round hole, which ends up being just as unsatisfying as trying to stuff a square peg in a round hole. To bring it back to writing and revision, the latter tends to be the biggest issue--and some of those forced square-into-round endings make it into the draft that gets published. But also there are endings that have been set up, that feel organic to the story, but that an author veers away from -- probably out of desire to confound expectations, or in the modern impulse to withhold anything resembling a happy ending. But withholding a happy ending where it belongs is just as contrived as forcing one where it doesn't.
I do enjoy coming up with "better endings." I remember watching Tootsie and wanting the "twist" to be that Dustin Hoffman finds himself falling for Terri Garr, who is perhaps not as ethereally beautiful as Jessica Lange, but her character is funny, and they would have had a far more interesting marriage.
But does Hollywood call me up for my advice at the script polishing stage? No, they don't! (I could probably sell that ending now, though.)
Spent my morning time struggling to accept that I need to bulldoze some longstanding walls in my current draft, and was resisting hard. This blog comes just when I needed to read it. Appreciate you, Rebecca.
I think the lesson ( a non-craft one) is that Frank has OCPD and needed a diagnosis and some meds, stat., I feel sorry for that pot!
Ha! I feel more sorry for the window! LOL
This reminds me of a similar writing analogy that has stuck with me. A homeowner finds a beautiful vase and puts it on her living room mantel. It looks great only now the mantel looks shabby. She changes that and realizes the walls are the wrong color. The living room is repainted, then the hall would look better in a different color and, well, it goes on. Soon her entire house is just lovely, but when she goes back to her living room, that beautiful vase no longer fits. She realizes she needs to take it down. Sometimes our darlings no longer serve the beauty of the whole.
Oh god this really is what it’s like sometimes
One might call this an illustration of an artist trying to not put a round peg in a round hole, which ends up being just as unsatisfying as trying to stuff a square peg in a round hole. To bring it back to writing and revision, the latter tends to be the biggest issue--and some of those forced square-into-round endings make it into the draft that gets published. But also there are endings that have been set up, that feel organic to the story, but that an author veers away from -- probably out of desire to confound expectations, or in the modern impulse to withhold anything resembling a happy ending. But withholding a happy ending where it belongs is just as contrived as forcing one where it doesn't.
I do enjoy coming up with "better endings." I remember watching Tootsie and wanting the "twist" to be that Dustin Hoffman finds himself falling for Terri Garr, who is perhaps not as ethereally beautiful as Jessica Lange, but her character is funny, and they would have had a far more interesting marriage.
But does Hollywood call me up for my advice at the script polishing stage? No, they don't! (I could probably sell that ending now, though.)
Spent my morning time struggling to accept that I need to bulldoze some longstanding walls in my current draft, and was resisting hard. This blog comes just when I needed to read it. Appreciate you, Rebecca.
Hilarious! Thank you for making me laugh on the saddest snowstorm day yet.
Ugh, that's a really good lesson. Thanks for drilling down on your thoughts about the pot and the window.
This is perfect. Thanks, Frank & Rebecca!
Brilliant.