I just watched the last episode of a series I have loved for years – loved so much that I thought how sad it would be when it finally went off the air. I’m not feeling that anymore. In fact, I’m so disgusted that I won’t watch it again…even though it will be on next week. One of the few characters I still cared about was killed in the episde I watched. I won’t be back to see what happens next because the death of that character broke some thread of trust I had with the shows writers and producer. Now, I just don’t care.
Life has enough strife, stress, and hardship without someone bringing more to me in my leisure time.
Once I figured out I now have one additional hour each week, I moved on to another thing which could have been equally traumatic – the end of the Sookie Stackhouse series. Now, I’ve been putting off actually finishing the final book because I didn’t want to be sad. Today, I figured I was already pissed off enough after my television viewing, so I might as well be completely miserable.
The entire time I was reading the final three books I kept wondering how Charlaine Harris would end it. I had all sorts of evil twists and diabolical plots and traumatic events floating around my imagination. I’d write them all here, but I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who’s still reading the book. I’ll create a separate page so you can read them if you want. I sat on my couch with my dog and a glass of water and decided to just rip the bandage off…
Much to my delight, the ending wrapped everything up quite nicely – with a healthy dose of justice and some pretty cool scenes that made me feel vindicated and really, really smart. At no point did I feel betrayed or used. I didn’t feel like I had been lead down the primrose path. The author had a chance break my heart and decided not to do it. I suppose I’m a complete sap because I do love a neat little ending. Notice, I didn’t qualify that as “a happy ending” because if nothing else, the end of a series I loved is hardly a happy thing.
It’s a mater of trust for me as a reader, viewer, and author. I like to be brought home after a date safe and sound with no regrets that I just wasted a few hours of my life. If I wanted to be sad, stressed, and shattered then I’ll wait around a bit because life tends to do that to all of us from time to time. I don’t need a complete stranger to make me feel that way.
I guess my new book will be out sooner, now that I have an extra hour in my week.