I was browsing through Writer Unboxed… but I had a question. Do you have any articles or suggestions about how to END a story? I’ve been muddling around with a story I would like to write, but I keep stopping because I have no idea how it will end! I know if I just buckle down and go through all the motions, it might come to me, but I think I’d feel more comfortable if I had a little support from someone who has struggled with these same issues.
The way I think about it is I’m splaying out all these lines – fishing lines, spools of thread – throughout the story. And in the last third, I’m gathering them up again. When they’ve all been gathered I’m at the end. – Catherine McKenzie
I like the very general advice that the story ends when the main story question (the one you started the book with) is answered. Will she capture the bad guy? Will he find that thing he’s been looking for? – Natalie Hart
I’ve often heard that the ending of a story should compel the reader to pick up your next book. For me, the ending has to complete all of the plot layers introduced, for better or worse, and make the reader feel as if her time was well spent with the story. A perfect ending isn’t always happy, but it should always embody the themes that inspired the writer, and illuminate some truth of life or human nature. – Erika Shephard Robuck
Is there enough of a story to make it into a series? In that case, you’d want to wrap enough of the story up for the first book to feel complete, but still have a thread or two of unfinished business to build the second book. – Jessica Pettengill Messinger
Adds Lester D. Crawford, who writes serial fiction:
[T]hroughout each volume are foreshadowings and setups for events in future volumes. Each book ends on a happy, successful note but with an ominous overtone hinting that something more is yet to come.
Some stories–and writers–are more character-driven from the start…and at the end as well. This isn’t to say that your story has to be one or the other. I believe that a story’s ending is likely hidden in the arc of the protagonist, that whatever is happening on a character’s insides can be applied to the external plot as well.
I make sure each character has a goal and reasons to want to reach that goal, and then the ending falls into place. I just nudge my characters along their arc and trust that they’ll tie it all together in the end. To be perfectly honest, things usually come together in one serendipitous “a-ha” moment that I couldn’t have planned if I tried. – Jessica Turza Brockmole
Vaughn Roycroft, WU’s Facebook Community Editor and a columnist for the WU Newsletter–you ARE signed up for the newsletter, aren’t you?–agrees that sometimes endings can’t be planned.
I thought I knew what my ending would be, but when I got to that moment, I just knew in my heart it wasn’t the end. It took me two more longish manuscripts to get to what I knew was the correct ending. It had to do with the satisfying completion of character arcs. I think you know it in your gut when you finally reach that level of closure.
And while it might be less than comfortable not knowing how the story is going to end before you write it, not knowing is a-okay, too.
I always have Doctorow’s dictum in mind when I start out. That writing a novel is like driving in the dark: you can only see as far as the headlights, but you can make the whole journey that way. I rarely know my ending at the beginning — and the few times I have, it’s changed en route. I write scenes and do research with only the dimmest knowledge of what I’m doing and yes, some of it is redundant, but then comes the moment when it all comes together with a click. ‘Of course,’ I find myself saying. ‘That’s it. How could it ever have been anything else?’ It’s such an exciting, pleasurable moment in the writing process and once it’s happened, the work is easier, lighter and very much faster. But I don’t find the ending, the ending finds me. – Orna Ross
“Happy ever after” doesn’t have to be your story’s destination, either, unless you write in a genre that demands it, like romance. “Unhappily ever after” is an acceptable choice–as long as that choice doesn’t go against the pact you’ve forged with your reader, something Ann Aguirre wrote about here in March.
I have always loved the rightness and often surprise with solid story endings. Fiction gives us a unique satisfaction that life makes sense, that people grow, that chance can be good or at least instructive to a character’s future. Or fiction can break our hearts open (following) the loss of a heroic or sympathetic character, leaving us a bit haunted. – Deborah Taylor-French
When writing my first novel I had a vague idea that perhaps the main character would live happily ever after. At least I fell in love with her so much I wanted her to. However, as the story began to unfold my main character took over the emotional reins and her choices left that happily ever after literally hanging in the air. I think that perhaps even when one has a solid ending, a character can change that with their actions, so I wouldn’t fret too much about not having a clear ending. I would simply travel to the world I’m writing about and let things go from there. – Bernadette Phipps Lincke
So what about that? Can your end your story with a question mark instead of un/happily ever after? Of course.
One of my mentors put it this way, you want to get to a place where the story could open up in a new way. Helps the writer to avoid the trap of tying everything up with a bow. – Diane Sherlock
In her blog post on story endings, author Juliette Fay suggests that we ask ourselves several questions, including:
- How much do I want the reader to actually know about how it ended? Should the reader be left with things to guess about? Which things?
- How neatly do I want it all tied up? Which aspects of the story should reach a full conclusion and which should be left as an ongoing issue?
- Where will each of the characters end up geographically? Emotionally? Professionally? Who will be happy and who will be unfulfilled?
Much can be left for the reader to consider, but know that some readers–and editors–prefer an ending with closure.
In The Day the Falls Stood Still, I left the ending quite open, though there are hints at what comes next. I liked that the reader would have to decide quite a bit for herself. In my next, The Painted Girls, I did the same, and interestingly when I had the opportunity to speak to the editors interested in buying the book, five of the six thought the ending was too open. They wanted a “more satisfying” ending. This was a surprise, especially given that The Painted Girls is more literary/complex than my first. There is now an epilogue and more resolution, more than I need personally as a reader. But who am I to argue with five well-regarded editors? – Cathy Buchanan
Some endings are inspired.
I agonized over how I would end The Oak Lovers. It is based on a true story, so an obvious choice presented itself. However, the protagonist is an ancestor, and one I have deep love for. I wasn’t sure I had the fortitude to write such a thing. On the day I decided I must write an ending, any ending, I felt a strong urge to look at a particular painting by my great-grandfather and I saw the answer there. The lesson in this: Let the character tell you how the story ends. – Kim Downes Bullock
I’ve discovered that I have two ways of finding the end. The first is through what I call a moment of grace. This is when my subconscious self unexpectedly inspires me to write down a complete story (usually, very short). In this state of inspiration, I have a felt sense of how the story is going to end, even though I can’t “see” it as I’m writing down the first line. But there’s an unconditional trust that I’m going to be given the perfect ending for the story, simply by following the inner voice giving me the words or clusters of sentences to write down. The second way is how I work 99 percent of the time. Here, I’m constantly throwing away previous ideas as I become familiar with the characters. With my present work in progress, it’s clear to me that, until I know my characters much better than I do, right now, they’re not going to reveal the true ending to their story to me. – Shelley Souza
Editor Dave King agreed that endings should “arise out of your characters,” and offered one of his favorite last lines, showing that a dab of wordplay can help to close a story circle.
I’d like to mention my favorite last sentence, from Richard Adams’ Watership Down. The first sentence of the book was “The primroses were over,” which is a great opener because it establishes how the rabbit protagonists measure the passage of time by what is in bloom. It also set up the last sentence, which was “The primroses had just begun.”
So, Denise Scotti McCurdy, though we all have different thoughts on how to wrap things up, I think we agree on this much: Listen to your story, to your characters, to your gut. Be okay with *not* being comfortable knowing how everything will be on that last page. And remember that if you write it, and it doesn’t ring true, you can always try another option.
I’ll close with something Robin Black wrote in a post at Beyond the Margins, because I sort of love it:
What if instead of calling endings “endings,” for just a while we called them “givings?” (I hesitate to write this because it sounds both sappy and a bit loopy, a little cringe-worthy, but bear with me here.) After all, the point at which the words on the page stop and the blank page takes over, is the point at which an author gives the story to the reader. Here, I am finished. It belongs to you now. Do with it what you will.
How do you know you’ve reached the end of your story? Please share your thoughts in comments.
Photo courtesy Flickr’s damaradeaella