We’ve Been on This Zeppelin for How Long!?
Time moves strangely in our chain story. Our unnamed protagonist has been riding on his wife’s zeppelin since the end of freakin’ February! He’s been in the bathtub since mid-September.
It’s a lovely zeppelin, as all Royal Contrarian Airships are. It has catacombs and courtyards, a sauna, a petting zoo, a bistro (complete with cutlery freezer), a print shop, escalators, an ice rink, a chapel, a reception hall with a light-up dance floor, and even ice cream karaoke trucks. Like most Contrarian airships, its dental infirmary is rudimentary at best (with off-brand novocaine), but it more than makes up for that with its spectacular bee tapestry (so the chefs always have fresh honey to drizzle over pancakes). And yet, perhaps it’s time to land this sucker and move the story along.
Our chain story started quite by accident. Jen wrote a weird little prompt about a dude under a pier and Kent found himself hungry for context. Et voila! And now it’s been years. It’s hard to remember a time before the chain story, and it’s hard to envision a world after it ends. It could conceivably go on forever. And yet we (read: mostly Kent) sometimes yearn for the freedom to write prompts that are not of the chain story.
But how do you end something so unwieldy and wild? It seems impossible to tie up all the loose ends into any kind of satisfying conclusion. But does it really need a satisfying ending? With no real beginning, does it really need to be tied up with a bow? And yet we’ve been immersed in this crazy world for so long it feels rude to just walk away.
Maybe we’ll aim for 1000 installments. We’re most of the way there already. If that’s the case (and I’m freaking out a little just typing these words), do we want to plan an ending to aim for? Or just meander that way and hope something good arises? It would feel bizarre to suddenly try to steer this thing, but it feels negligent to trust it to find its own way home.
A writing partner is someone who holds your hand as you spiral endlessly about the silliest things.