Just finished a huge novel, at least 120,000 words, almost 900 pages of font so teeny tiny I almost dug out my kid’s Dora the Explorer magnifying glass.

After faithfully plugging through lush prose, vivid imagery, and exciting characters, the author declined to . . . settle matters. Major characters disappeared. People were left gravely injured. The author split in the middle of the action!

This was my reaction. Throw book against wall. Stomp downstairs. Tell eight-year old and dog what happened. Stomp upstairs, retrieve book, give to dog hoping he will eat it. He does not. He knows books are sacred.

Hey, smarty pants author, if you are going to write a really, really long novel, for the love of Tolstoy, provide a resolution!

I finished the marathon. Now give me the gold medal, the t-shirt, the free water bottle, and yeah, I want those ugly crocodile shoes too. I earned that stuff. Heck, I bought that stuff with my entrance fee!