Tired and aching from shoveling the driveway, my heart sank as I heard the snow plow scraping down the road. I sighed, grabbed my toque, and went back out.
The plow had left a thick strip of the worst kind of snow, piled up to my knees. There was nothing to do but dig in.
Half-way through, muscles sore and weakening, I noticed a rusty, aged tractor making its slow way up the mountain. I waved hello, thinking I could use a tractor of my own, when it stopped, turned, and scooped up the rest of that nasty, heavy snow. The young fellow inside tipped his hat once and drove off up the mountain, his cape flapping in the wind.
A recent social media meme asked me “If you could be a goddess or a god, what would you be the patron deity of?”
My first thought was ‘semi-colons’ because my brain doesn’t work well under pressure. Still, I supposed semi-colons are better than colons, considering that at some point someone is going to misunderstand that title and the colon gods will be elbow deep in proctology.
Then I thought about it a little more and decided I’d like to be the goddess of unfinished stories. I don’t think there is a current goddess of unfinished stories and just think of how handy I could be. Instead of letting unfinished stories rot in a notebook, characters frozen in whatever terrible situation you’ve put them in, you could call on me. Deadline looming and not sure how to end your story? I’m your goddess.
I’m not comfortable with prayer (my mind-reading skills are terrible), but feel free to text or email.
Writers could leave offerings of freshly ground dark roast coffee, Sharpie pens (fine), the occasional smudge stick. For big messes maybe some HP75XL printer ink (cough cough George R. R. Martin). In return I’d help them finish their stories.
The upside will be all the books dedicated to me and my mentions in acknowledgement pages at the end of books. Do you ever read those? They’re strangely dull considering the authors are… well, published. When I become the goddess of unfinished stories, that is going to change. The acknowledgements will be epic, full of entertaining doodads and hilarious anecdotes. They will become the book version of end-of-credits sequences on beloved films. The true fans will adore them and hipsters will covet them.
All in all, I’m not sure we as writers can afford to not make me the goddess of unfinished stories, except for this whole mortal thing I have happening. If anyone has any suggestions or hacks for becoming a goddess, please pass them along so we can get this thing started.