The worst thing about writing a story is when you can't finish it.
Sometimes writing just follows through with a natural flow; you've had an idea and it all kind of falls into place. The beginning followed by the middle followed by the end. Job done.
But then there are occasions when that story just won't reach it's conclusion. You've introduced your characters and they've gone about their business. But now it seems they're just hanging about,waiting for direction. They've got to do something fairly radical in order for the plot to move on. But you just don't know what that is.
Take my story Mayfly Dancing, for example. This has been sitting gathering dust on my shelf for two years. This is written from the perspective of a mother and a son, both reflecting on their fragmented relationship.I had no problem with the boy's part of the story.But the mother Celia's half was causing me some difficulty.
The truth was I didn't really like Celia. Not only that. I didn't feel any sympathy for her. In fact, I didn't relate to her in any way.So I had to re-invent Celia in order to walk through the words in her shadow.And then I could finish the story.
I still don't like Celia that much. But I understand her better. Perhaps there's a bit of me in the new Celia. Or a bit of her in me.