You know at the end of the final Lord of the Rings film when you thought it had finished. And then it hadn’t. And then you thought it had finished. And then it kept going. Repeat times five. And at the end you’re actually relieved that the credits are rolling, but you’re not hanging about to find the name of that guy you knew in high school who works for WETA. And you certainly aren’t hoping for an extra scene hidden at the end of the credits.

Well that’s what it’s like writing the end of a novel. Even one without a false finish. I’ve been finishing for a couple of weeks now and yet I’m not done. To be fair, it’s a romance and the couple only just resolved their differences and confessed their (undying or otherwise) love this morning… That should have been my first clue that I wasn’t at the ending yet.

But I want it signed off. And so, rather than finding some significant parallel between this writing quandary and life in general, or a few cute pics of the kids, I’m going to get back to work.

I have ‘One day more’ from Les Miserables in my head…

Something tells me (it could be the kids chatting/squealing when they’re meant to be napping) that I won’t be signing off ‘The End’ till tomorrow. But here goes!