It's done in the way a bag of microwave popcorn is done. Most of the kernels are popped and coated in that fake butter stuff. It's good. Maybe not movie theater good, but certainly edible. But then there are those unpopped kernels hanging out in the bottom of the bag. There are always unpopped kernels. My last eighteen pages remain unpopped. They kind of spoil the whole bag, because when I'm done enjoying the popcorn I've got those kernels that, like the last chapter and a half of my novel, symbolize unrealized potential. Those kernels could have been popcorn too, if only I'd had some more of patience.
So even though I really want to share my popcorn and see if others find it as appetizing as I do, I'm not going to. I'm putting the bag back in the microwave. I'm popping the last kernels.
Blogger's note: Here's the problem with metaphor: If you put an actual bag of popcorn back in a mircrowave, you run the very real risk of burning all that was previously delicious. Sure, you'll pop those last few kernels, but it's not worth the risk. Better to pop most of the corn and leave a few bagglers then have to throw out the entire bag due to greed. But none of that really works with a story. Stories tend to get better the more you work them. So let's just ignore that little problem, kay?