Tuesday is the start of NaNoWriMo and of course I'm participating again this year. It'll be my fourth whack at writing at least 50,000 words in 30 days and I hope my fourth win. (Last year's novel is only about half done and I haven't gotten back to it but that's another story. Nothing to see there. At least not yet.)
I have the main characters pretty much worked out. I'm building the world and the idea is developing quite nicely. What I needed is the ending and that came to me this morning. It's not nice.
I'm not going to tell you about the ending because I think this story is going to be the one that I can be proud of enough to get it out on the street in some form or another. It's definitely SF because there's faster than light travel involved and an artificial intelligence and interesting races that aren't human. At its heart though the story's about relationships because that's what fascinates me. I hope there'll be some clever dialogue ala Russell T. Davies or Steven Moffat & Mark Gatiss or even (dare I say) Joss Whedon.
Now I'm not in the same league as those guys, or even in the same dimension, but that's what I'm aiming at this year. Bigger and more ambitious.
Dammit, I'm going to be a full-time writer some day.
Because the ending I came up with this morning? It's intense. It's emotional and it's going to make you hate something, maybe me for writing it. But it's GOOD. It'll have meaning that will resonate back across the novel because I know exactly why it happens and to who. This is the first time I've had this clear a vision of the end of a work.
And if I do my job correctly in the writing of it, it will be brutal. I'm choked up just thinking about it.