I’m thinking of devoting my Wednesday posts to topics on middles and ends. It seems only fair, since my Friday posts are exercises – and exercises are generally for the purpose of getting started. Beginnings get all the glory, with writing, and in some ways that makes sense. After all, nobody will get to the middle or end of your book if you don’t have a stand-out opening. Readers and agents judge you by your first few pages, your first few paragraphs, your first few sentences. I, myself, as a browser of books, have often put a book back after reading the first line.
However, there’s nothing more disappointing in the world of readership than a book that starts great and goes steadily (or abruptly) downhill from there. It’s frustrating, because the writer has gotten you invested in the story, convinced you to care about the characters, and lured you into taking the time and attention to find out What Happens Next, only to let you down. I hate it when I’m invested enough in a book that I can’t just stop reading it, but wish I could just stop reading it.
Like most avid readers, I have a hefty stack of titles I want to get around to, and if you hook me into reading your work, I expect something back for my investment. If I don’t get it, I’ll be disgusted with you as a writer, resent you for wasting my time, and I’ll never buy or recommend another of your books…ever. This is not the reader response an author wants, obviously.
The beginning’s job is to catch the attention of the reader and make them want to find out about the plot and the people in your story. Once you do that, you have an obligation to follow through with a middle that does its job well – being the story. That’s the middle’s job.
All the elements of being the story (questions raised and answered, intrigue and tension built and relieved, complications arising and being overcome (or not), downfalls suffered, redemptions achieved) have to work together to advance your plot in a way that holds the reader’s attention. It isn’t enough to have an interesting plot. You have to have the storytelling skills to tell it in an interesting way. I’ve read a few books, actually, that I loved in spite of a weak plot simply because they were told in a way that kept me turning the pages, thirsty for more, curious about the characters’ next moves.
Which leaves, of course, the end. Last but not least, dear ending. You are just as important as the beginning, except during the slush pile years. The ending’s job, then, is to be the payoff. Yes, it’s there to wrap things up, but just tying up your loose ends or saying Happily Ever After may not be enough.
True, there are some genres we expect a certain type of ending from – horror usually ends with a twist or a final scare, sometimes the gruesome death of a character who thought he/she had gotten away; romance is often the happily-ever-after scenario; a series will sometimes set up the conflict for the next novel; etc.
Specifics aside, however, I think what makes for a truly great ending is this:
- A sense of how things have changed, especially in the characters’ internal landscapes. A sense of how far things have come or how far things have gone.
- A sort of Zen acknowledgement that things began in a status quo and that things will return to a status quo, even if the new status quo is entirely different from the old.
- A payoff worthy of the journey, whether your book is a wild adventure or an introspective/interpersonal struggle. A payoff that suits the story, too. Don’t get melodramatic if the rest of the book was low-key and subtle. Don’t have a drawn-out, ho-hum ending to a book full of explosions and gunslinging. Don’t kill someone off arbitrarily just to end on a poignant note if the rest of your book was light-hearted.