I’ve been finding myself in the midst of endless endings of late...

I stopped having a girlfriend and got myself a wife.

I left my 40’s behind and slammed into the cold hard fact that I’m 50. 

I started developing my first TV gig but pretty much stopped writing about my creative life online. Because? Have you seen TV contracts? No, I hadn’t either. Hello NDA’s... 

I had a hysterectomy and said goodbye to my womb. 

So here it is. Coming ready or not. I find myself in a new phase of my life.  The old me is finished and it’s my turn to pick up the old-krone-mother-fucker-double-trouble batten and run with it. How did that happen? No-one asked if I was OK with this. But as it turns out, it’s not all bad.

I was terrified of having my hysterectomy.  And I have to say, I’ve had way more laughs in my life. But neither has it been the end I feared. And while my physical recovery will take time to fully arrive, I *am* returning.  But I’m coming back different, not the same. Hormone replacement, invasive surgery and the thinking I have done around saying goodbye to my ovaries has changed me. I thought I would return feeling lesser or abridged. But, though there are profound ups and downs, I am surprised to recognise a new sense of liberation arriving. There are so many people, out in the world, who take pills &/or have surgery so that they can (re)discover themselves and live their fullest life.  I simply joined these ranks. That’s all.  When I first said the words ‘my hysterectomy’ I almost whispered them, for fear of what they represented. It felt like the beginning of a shameful, slide into a dreadful, dried-up end. But to own my operation as a positive and to talk and write about it? Suddenly it feels beautifully unpredictable, entirely unapologetic and the most punk rock thing I’ve done in years. I didn’t see that coming.

Even so. And nonetheless. I disappear daily.  I get bumped, walked past and ignored on the reg. By a growing army of folk. In a hurry looking for what they want and not finding it in me. I am literally beginning to dissolve into pavements, bus seats and queues. If they see me at all, they look and count me out in a glance. That particular ‘glance and a look away’ is all I need to know that for many I am as good as dead already. It’s terrifying. On bad days I begin to fear they might be right. But even so. And nonetheless. There is another part of disappearing that is quite extraordinary.  When I remember to be awake to the possibility of it all. What fun, dear hearts, might I do undetected in my new invisibility cloak? Over here! In plain sight.  I would imagine there are many more middle aged women in service with the MI5 and 6 than 007 fans would believe possible. Those dead-ghost-women that you see out of the corner of your eye? Turns out we’re everywhere and we’re getting up to hot, hot shit.

So yeah. I’ve been thinking about endings. Finishes. Dead ends and stops. And how every single one always has a surprise revolving door that spits me out into an unexpected new beginning...

I’ve been thinking about this stuff because I’ve just led a session ‘on finishing’ for the Writing Squad. Every single one of the mentees I have the pleasure of working with are extraordinarily talented young people.  But some are held back by a fear of embracing the act of ending. So I wanted to spend some time with them, thinking about that.  There are many reasons why finishing a script is hard.  It can be the idea of being defined by what we finish. What if it’s not good enough? The potential of ‘it can still be so many things’ is replaced by the fact that it has turned into simply ‘this’... That alone is enough to give anyone the shits and never find a way to end. 

So in our workshop, we talked about perfectionism and procrastination and imposter syndrome. We talked about fear. We talked about committing to a process rather than fixating on the quality of the product.  It was a lovely, lovely way to spend a day. To see moments of ‘oh, I’m not alone with that!’ break across faces.  There is something so joyous about seeing the possibility of a solution crossing another person’s face.  I think I have never loved a job so much as I love working with The Squad. It was a good day. Even so, looking back now. I wonder if we talked enough about the most important thing to know about finishing. That knowledge, that when we dare to face up to a finish, somehow an unexpected new beginning does somehow materialise.

So, to all the writers out there who find it hard to finish.  I just say, you’re not alone.  There are so many of us in the process of dropping the threads or our ideas, when the muddle of it all makes it feel impossible. There are so many of us disappearing, losing purchase, finding ourselves in holes or stuck looking up in awe at other peoples words. But remember that when we dare push, keep going, slip ourselves onward over that terrifying finish line; an end we are not fully satisfied with may well appear, but so will an unexpected new offer of a fresh start. So just do it. Just commit to that spiral of change. Drafting again. Grinding. Slipping. Dreaming. Cutting. Walking. Thinking. Marking. Scraping. Reworking. Rewriting. Over and over again. Writing the same story over and over again. Over and over, saying the same thing. In new ways. In older ways. In better ways. In ways that mean nothing to anyone but ourselves. Only to discover other people felt it too. In ways we never imagined. There are so many of us. And I find knowing all of that, helps. Do your work. Then stop. Throw it at someone and scream ‘read this’ and then run at that revolving door, that appears as soon as you’ve done the magic act of finishing and know you will be ok. Because you’ll be spun out, to just start all over again in a way you can not imagine now, but which will be so obvious once that draft is done... In my life and in my work, the destination I set out to reach is hardly ever the place I end up.  I could not be more surprised by my life, or the words and worlds of story I’ve created. When I remember to stop worrying about it all and just commit to doing, things get done, started and finished. And sometimes, when I’m lucky, the fucker ends up on a stage or screen somewhere. That makes me happy.

Postscript
The Writing Squad are currently recruiting young writers for the next Squad. Find out how to join, or pass on the details to someone else.
http://www.writingsquad.com/join-the-squad/