the middle's the rubby Suzanne Palmer
(all rights reserved)
I've written a novel, it's all I could want
Nine hundred pages in a very small font.
I've got rogues and ruffians and characters new
And imaginary friends from when I was two.
The first fifty pages are rousing indeed
As my Hero discovers his Call to the Deed
The last fifty pages are equally spry
When at last is revealed the who and the why.
Though utterly brilliant, there's one flaw I see--
I can't figure out what the middle should be...
It needs bold adventure, suspense and gore
And plotterly intrigue all sure not to bore
Gold should be found, and loves must be lost!
And fierce battles won at very great cost
But my muse has fled early, abandoning me
With no way to get from point A to point Z
I sit at my screen and I think how to write it
But nothing comes, through I try not to fight it
Three hundred blank pages, staring at me
As I pound and I pound the delete-it-all key
Beginnings are easy, endings are too,
But the middles are brutal. How so for you?