Something happened yesterday, in the middle of a story I was writing. I realized that I had overdone the ending, thrown in too many subplots to hold the reader's interest.
I knew then what had to be done.
Feigning a walk through the garden, I took the unnecessary plot twist out behind the chemical sheds and put a bullet into her brain. She kicked and screamed, knowing all the while what was coming. She had seen me do this to her sister earlier this week, and like Anne Bolyn, saw the writing on the wall. As I dragged her by her bound hands (which were shaped suspiciously like adverbs) she begged me not to do it. “You swore that you loved me!” she said. “That we would always be together!”
“I’m so sorry, awesome ending to my story” I replied, “but you were deemed so much dead weight, and well, there’s this minimalist approach that’s interested in me.”
“You’ll be back!” She screamed “You’ll come crawling back to me, and I’ll make you beg, oh yes I will! Just watch! I’ll make you grovel and moa-“
*BLAM!*
Then it was over. Unnecessary plot twist lay there, twitching, with a puddle the shape of
And society judged that she had to die.
Who weeps for this unnecessary plot twist? Who sees a little bit of themselves lying here, in this shallow grave of unused gerunds and wasted subjunctives?
And what will be left for the future…?
1 comment:
I feel for you. My favorite line the project upon which I am working had to go away yesterday.
I've been looking for a place to use it for years, and I was sure this was the perfect spot for it. (It's Rule #4, from Advice to Characters in Monster Movies: "If you are a homicide detective called to a crime scene and you find a corpse drained of blood with two little holes on its neck? A vampire did it. What -- you never saw a fucking movie?"
Couldn't keep it, though.
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