Endings are hard (or the Shoelaces’ metaphor).

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So I am kind of obsessed with books’ beginnings.
What do you mean?
I mean, the first lines. It’s like a book’s business card. Think, “Call me Ishmael”.
That’s bullshit.
What do you mean?
I mean, “Call me Ishmael”. That works for the book, and it’s epic just because the book it’s epic. It would be a shitty beginning if you then had 50 Shades of Grey. “Call me Mr. Grey”.
Well, but.
No but.
And what about endings?
Endings?
Yes. Like, the Great Gatsby.
What about it?
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning— So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
Yeah, poetic.
It’s not just poetic.
Isn’t it?
Yes it is. But it’s more. Endings are hard. You have to tie all up. To give sense to thousands of words.
Listening to you enough, one is lead to believe that all the parts of writing a book are hard.
Well that’s true as well. But endings are the hardest.
And why is that?
Because, the whole time you write it’s like you’re knitting long wool strings. You knit and knit and knit and then you’re at the end and you’ve to close those strings or the scarf will fall apart in thousands pieces.
The scarf?
It’s a metaphor.
You’re crap at metaphors.
Why, you have a better one?
As a matter of fact, I do. I think it’s like shoelaces.
Shoelaces?
Shoelaces. If you don’t tie the strings perfectly they might untie and then you’ll stumble and fall.
Ah.
So if you don’t tie your strings well at the end of the story, the story trips over and crashes.

Yeah.
I think you’re better at metaphors than me.
I know.

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