Whether I am writing poetry, stories, lesson plans or a shopping list, there is always a point where I have to stop and tell myself 'no more'. In some of these writing exercises it is an easy decision - I generally know when I have everything on the shopping list (though there will always be that item I forgot that ends up in the trolley anyway); with lesson plans, I’m there when the task meets the objective and the resources are all organised.
With stories and poetry, it is a little more vague. I am very much a poetry novice, so I don't often change much after that first bout of word 'vomit' into the typewriter (thanks to Raymond Chandler for that glorious image), though I have been known to tweak a word here or there.
Stories though - and the more I write the more I think about each and every word - stories are definitely harder to declare 'finished'. I don't think many authors are ever fully satisfied that the story is 'perfect' (is perfect even possible? I suppose some would say so). Speaking for myself, I always feel that I could change something else about a story. And I can't say that these changes are necessarily going to improve the work either so the seemingly endless revisions often serve little purpose. But, as I say, there comes a point when a person must put the pen down, save the file, and send off the work. There doesn't seem to be any 'getting used' to deciding to stop writing (still not saying 'finish') and it is a little like ripping off a plaster, but there does seem to be a slight numbing of the area, if I might be permitted so tenuous an analogy. A point where - if not 'perfect' then 'good enough' - and that, perhaps, is the point. A story might never be 'finished' but it certainly will be good enough, and it certainly will be told.
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