An idea takes hold and you cannot let it go. As I write I have an idea in mind, but as I consider the story, thinking alone to myself in the corner of my room, I find the story taking on inescapable conclusions. I cannot write them out. Not yet. The story exists now and cannot be undone, un-thought, unwritten. I could delete the file, erase the memory from my hard drive and try to forget it, but it will stick to my mind; like I’ve dragged my sock clad feet across the carpet of the story and now that ending, like a piece of statically charged plastic, will cling to my skin.

Recently I discovered the ending of a novel I’m writing and I hate it. I wanted to swipe it away from me, peel it off, but it sticks with a force as strong as static cling.  I see where the characters are headed, what they will do. It hurts to think that human beings do such things. It hurts to know with certainty that I believe, without a doubt, that this must be the way this story ends.  But I cannot get it to leave me now.

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