If you’ve read my Tweets lately you’ll undoubtedly know that
I’ve been working on a submission for an anthology lately in which some poor
housewife discovers that her husband has turned into a raving, knife welding
lunatic responsible for the murder of several women. And you might also know
that writing that said story has been something of a pain in the ass for me.
I originally intended to have the good housewife dead by the
end of eight thousand words because I wanted to avoid the sunshine and rainbows
ending. However, that being said, by the time it came close to ending that poor
woman’s life, I found I just couldn’t do it. I imagined it was a story arc issue,
that maybe it wasn’t time yet to separate organs from body, but the more I
wrote the more stubborn the housewife became.
She simply didn’t want to die.
In the end I just had to listen.
I didn’t get the ending I wanted, but I got the ending I
needed.
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