Now I know what to call those posts I never write. Christabels.

A Christabel, named after Coleridge’s poem, is an inherently unfinishable piece of writing. It is unfinishable because it is based on false premises (false premises often disguise themselves as grand and glorious ambitions) and you can spot a Christabel by the way it falls apart worse the further you go into it. There is no way of knowing for sure that you are writing a Christabel, because it is always theoretically possible that, had you gone on, perhaps the cat would have emerged from the depths of a particularly deeply meaningful bag. But if you can identify the increasing unlikeliness with any kind of objective judgement, it is a fairly clear sign worth taking a risk for. The risk of not having created the world’s greatest work of genius yet, that is. Not too bad, then. Worse things definitely happen at sea.