I love writing endings.
Planning them is a tough cookie. You have to make sure all the parts fit, and that they carry enough significance and strength. It needs to be tense and heartwrenching and all kinds of other hard things. Fitting the pieces correctly plays a big role in this, and that's one thing I do through planning.
The rest comes with good writing. Conveying all the powerful emotions with the right words and the right actions.
Here's the thing. I like my ending's plan. When I talk about it, I get carried away and excited like no other part of the novel. When I put it down? It comes out all wrong, of course.
I'm not worried, not even for a moment. NaNoWriMo has taught me to ignore the lame writing and keep moving forward. As long as I am confident that I am writing the right scene, I don't mind the lameness level of what is inside.
I just want it there. I need something to work with later and I need a first feel of how these imagined scenes play out. There's no editing a blank page, and all that.
Last week, I hit this point in the novel where everything goes downhill. I know exactly what goes where, and when, though it was a real headache to puzzle it out. Now that's behind me. All I have to do is write, write, write.
Slide down the hill until I reach the finish line.