This book is like, what’s it called when you cut something in half and then again and again but it’s infinite because you can always cut it in half again? That’s what reaching the end of this book is like. Visible, yet infinitely far away. I need to make dinner (and I really want to just fry eggs and call it good, but there’s chicken in the fridge and it’d be stupid to let it go to waste) and finish this *damned* chapter, and then probably sit there and try to figure out exactly what needs to happen to lurch the last few chapters to THE END.



  1. desperance

    It’s an implementation of Zeno’s paradox, surely? And it’s okay, because that’s a purely mathematical expression; when you play it out practically, you find that actually those last few strides do gobble up the ground, just where you were beginning to feel bogged down for ever.

    Cook chicken; cooking is good.

  2. fiction_theory

    I don’t know what the physics term is, but it made me think of that old Disney cartoon where the mouse is a wizard and he keeps chopping up the broomsticks and they just keep multiplying.

    But that’s probably the opposite of your issue.

    Mostly, though, I just commented to say hi and to say that your icon is the perfect representation of my current mental state. Seriously.

  3. tambowrites

    It’s the dreaded Novelist’s *Resolution Event Horizon*, where we see the ending, we know it’s there, but it’s expanding exponentially further away from the point in the book where we were certain it would be.

    Sooner or later we catch it, though, usually because it comes back around and smacks us in the face, leaving us exhausted and twitching. ;) Because endings are teases like that, the rotted things.

    Hang in there, hon. You’ll get there. Just drink plenty of fluids. Don’t wanna get dehydrated when you’re chasing it down.

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