Yes, I'm at the end of the book, almost at deadline, and I'm pulling my hair out. See, I have a little secret. I *hate* writing the end of a book. No, not because I'm going to miss living in this world with these people. By now, I'm pretty tired of them and want them to get together and go off and live their imaginary lives without me. I hate the end of the book because it's damn difficult to write.
There's a fine line between maudlin and touching. I puzzle over striking the right balance between a satisfying ending and one that's over the top and hokey. We all know they're going to get together in the end. It's a romance, after all. The HEA is guaranteed. It's the how and why and what he says and what she says and does etc. Do I write a wedding? Or just the proposal and acceptance? Is it enough that they confess their love? (Not usually.)
So I'm there in the current book. And complaining. Loudly.
Sigh, I'd better get back to writing it. I'm right there, and the book will be finished today.