Finding the End
Melanie Smith
[melanie.smith43@ntlworld.com]
Every story has a beginning, a middle and an end. Mine has
a beginning and a middle, but no end. For weeks now I've
been staring at blank pieces of paper and re-reading my
story over and over again, trying to find an ending that fits.
I have actually written three different endings already but
when I read them together with the rest of the story they
just don't work. The actions of the characters don't seem
the natural actions they would take; they seemed forced.
It's like I can't remember the characters; they used to be so
vivid in my mind. No matter what I do I just can't get them
back. I've read my story hundreds of times, and read all the
little notes I've made about my characters. I even listened
to some songs, which used to remind me of certain scenes
within the story. I need to do something more extreme.
I have come to the conclusion that in order to solve
a problem you have firstly to know what caused it. The
first reason that comes to mind is writers block, but I don't
actually have a problem with writing, as I have already
written three reasonably well-written endings, and based on
that I also know that I am not lacking imagination.
I recall when I first began writing this story, it was
inspired by a day out I took on my own last year. I went to
Sandsend on the east coast, near Whitby. I remember
walking around the village thinking that it was such a
beautiful place. I took photos of the buildings, cliffs,
beaches and coves, so that I could look at them and
summon up the feelings that the place gave me. I got
thinking about what it would be like to live there, and that's
when I saw a teenage couple walking along through the
woods on the cliff. Over the next few days a story started
to develop in my mind about those two people. I imagined
them to live in one of the Bed and Breakfasts on the sea
front. That is the only time I've been to Sandsend.
Last night I started thinking that another journey to
Sandsend might be just what I need to figure out the ending
to my story. What better place to be? I'm already nearly
there, about thirty minutes away, just starting to go over
the moors.
I've just had a vision in my mind of Callum on a bus
alone just as I am going over these same moors, and he's
travelling back to Sandsend. Callum, like me is returning to
Sandsend to get answers. Like me he has only ever been
there once before, but he was there for about a week, and he
didn't leave it as long as I have before returning. He returns
to put an end to the mystery of his father and I am going
back to find an end to the story which is partly about him.
The bus is beginning to go down a steep winding
slope into the village. I can see the beach laid out in front of
the houses and the Bed and Breakfasts. A small river
flowing towards the ocean interrupts the row of buildings
along the sea front, and an old narrow bridge, barely wide
enough for the bus to cross, is the only way of getting from
one side of the village to the other. It's strange to think I'm
going past the same guesthouses as in my story. The setting
is coming to life in front of my eyes. I will soon be able to
walk along the cliff and in among the coves where Callum
and Katolina frequently hide out. Perhaps that's how it
could end, with the two of them back in one of their special
meeting places.
I am now lying on the cliff where Katolina often
goes, to think and have a break from the busy village filled
with tourists. There are light winds whistling through the
oak trees, and sea gulls calling out for food and hovering
around the fishing boats. If I look further out to sea I can
see the ships floating by towards Whitby harbour. By being
here I am becoming my characters, by experiencing the
things they do. Now that I have made my journey back
here, walked along the cliff top, ventured into the coves and
walked the length of the beach. I have one thing left to do.
I am sitting on the stone steps leading down to the
beach after just having come out of the very guesthouse
where Katolina and Callum live. I persuaded the owner to
let me see inside, and go into the kitchen and even up into
the attic. Once I'd explained to her why I wished to look
around, she thought it was wonderful that a story was being
written where the two main characters live in a Bed and
Breakfast based on hers, and was only too happy to let me
look around, with her watching me of course. While in the
attic I imagined myself once again as Katolina, sitting in the
attic looking through all the old family belongings. Of
course I wasn't looking through theirs, just imagining. The
owner also let me into the bedroom on the top floor (as no
guest was currently staying in that room) so that I could sit
on the window ledge as I imagined Katolina would have,
with the windows wide open looking out over the sand and
the ocean.
I'm waiting for the next bus to arrive to take me
back home. From where I am sitting I have a perfect view of
the beach, cliffs, and the coves and right behind me is
Katolina's home. Now all around me my characters are
dancing, acting out the ending to their story.
© 2004 Melanie Smith, all rights reserved
appears here by permission
