The End…Sadness or Celebration?
>This is an excerpt from an article off of Absolute Write, a writing ezine.
By Aaron Paul Lazar
There is a time in every author’s life when he or she experiences a sudden pang of loss, and sweet sorrow descends like soggy tissues on a broken heart. Man or woman, romance or action writer, sensitive poet or straight-shootin’ scene churner, it hits us one and all. It’s the moment we reach at the end of our long suffering days, those focused, driven, passionate hours, plastered with outpourings of words that evolved into our current work in process. The moment we type “The End.”
It happens to all of us. Sometimes there’s a delayed reaction and suddenly it sneaks up to slay us the next day. Macho man or lyrical lady, none are immune. In my case, I don’t actually burst into tears. But my throat tightens, a lump forms, and I fight back moisture that puddles and threatens to overflow.
My God. It’s over. What will I write tomorrow?
>The End…Sadness or Celebration?
>This is an excerpt from an article off of Absolute Write, a writing ezine.
By Aaron Paul Lazar
There is a time in every author’s life when he or she experiences a sudden pang of loss, and sweet sorrow descends like soggy tissues on a broken heart. Man or woman, romance or action writer, sensitive poet or straight-shootin’ scene churner, it hits us one and all. It’s the moment we reach at the end of our long suffering days, those focused, driven, passionate hours, plastered with outpourings of words that evolved into our current work in process. The moment we type “The End.”
It happens to all of us. Sometimes there’s a delayed reaction and suddenly it sneaks up to slay us the next day. Macho man or lyrical lady, none are immune. In my case, I don’t actually burst into tears. But my throat tightens, a lump forms, and I fight back moisture that puddles and threatens to overflow.
My God. It’s over. What will I write tomorrow?