The End, or “I like endings where the [prose] stops but the [story] goes on… Stops, that is, with the electricity still going.”

/ Musings, Writing / By

(subtitle quote borrowed and altered from a favorite line of Marvin Bell’s: “I like endings where the poem stops but the poetry goes on… Stops, that is, with the electricity still going.”)

For the first time in what seems like a really long time, I am writing a short story. Or, maybe better put, I am re-writing a draft of a short story that I wrote a couple years ago, and it’s a radical revision. The kind of revision where the entire structure and intention changes. The earliest draft never had an ending; it just kind of… ended.

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Now, in this radical revision, recognizing this as a short story—and not, say, a speculative essay or the first chapter of a novel—I am writing toward an ending. Except, as I mentioned, it’s been a while (!) since I’ve written short fiction. How does one END a short story? (And by one I mean ME! But also, perhaps this will be useful to you, dear reader.) At this point in my life, I’ve written quite a few short stories, but they all seem to have happened so long ago, as if to a different person. (Here’s the most recently published—back in 2022!)

During a meeting with a friend, when discussing this particular dilemma, she asked, “If one of your students came to you with this question, what would you tell them?”

GOOD QUESTION!

My informal advice, the advice I believe to be most true, is: “You know your ending when you write it.”

Which is to say, you’ll find your way there eventually.

*laughs*

This isn’t, however, what I’ve told my students over the years. Or, at least, it’s only the tip of the iceberg of what I’ve told my students over the years. There is a certain amount of stumbling and intuition that goes into any story ending.1

But there is also craft.

And craft is (a lot of) what I talk to my students about, and craft has some measurable qualities.

For instance, it might help to know the type of ending you’re aiming for.2

Looking over my notes, I was reminded:

I like to think of LANDING A PLANE as a metaphor for LANDING AN ENDING: You want to bring it down smoothly and then coast just enough before coming to a stop. DON’T CRASH ONTO THE TARMAC AND SCREECH TO A HALT. DON’T FLY PAST YOUR DESTINATION. [Related: the landing is only successful if the journey was also successful! That is, the story needs to be successfully written to be successfully ended. It’s all of a piece and cannot be pulled apart. You must EARN3 your ending.]

I also, yesterday, made some new notes in my journal—less about craft and more about process. Sometimes questions are reminders.

Some questions to ask:

  • Is there a clue in the beginning?
  • Is the central mystery solved?
  • Is the central mystery deepened?
  • Has something been said about the theme?
  • Does it leave an echo?
  • Are potential questions answered to a level of satisfaction? (Whose level of satisfaction? (My level, when I inhabit the reader’s level.))
  • On a purely craft level, does the plot feel complete? That is, are we done peeking in the window?

The questions don’t bring me to the ending of the story, but they open doors, or pave a path, or guide an arrow true. There’s more writing to be done, of that I am sure, but I’ve put my subconscious on alert, to welcome serendipity. At least half of my writing is informed by seredipity.

But if serendipity ever gets too dippity, there’s also these exercises…

A handful of my favorite endings, in no particular order:

  • “Stone Animals” by Kelly Link (in Magic for Beginners)
  • Exit West by Mohsin Hamid
  • Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan4
  • “Bees” by Sarah Hall (in The Beautiful Indifference)
  • “Wolf-Alice” by Angela Carter (in The Bloody Chamber)
  • “Stay Awake” by Dan Chaon (in Stay Awake)
  • “Apple Glory” by Katie Schmid (in Nowhere: Poems)
  • Something New Under the Sun by Alexandra Kleeman
  • Terrace Story (all four “rooms”) by Hilary Leichter5
  • “L. DeBard and Aliette” by Lauren Groff (in Delicate, Edible Birds)
  • “The Hunter’s Wife” by Anthony Doerr (in The Shell Collector)
  • On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan
  • “raw daddy” by Victor LaValle (in slapboxing with jesus)

What are some of your favorite endings? As a writer, how do you know when a story is “done”?

NOTES

  1. When I wrote “The Infidel Approaches Grace” I had what I thought was an ending—a decent image that stood in for the whole—but then I was cleaning the toilet one afternoon and the final four lines came to me entire. Unexpected and perfect. ↩︎
  2. I should say: I am NOT an outliner and I only very rarely write a story in a linear way (from start to finish) so I often don’t know what I’m aiming for until the tip of the arrow is inches from the target. That said, I find making lists of options to be helpful. My list of options is adapted from “Endings: Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow” by Elissa Schappell, found in The Writer’sNotebook II: Craft Essays from Tin House ↩︎
  3. “Earn” is a verb I don’t always love, but here I find it suitable. ↩︎
  4. More on this book soon. ↩︎
  5. I interviewed Hilary for The Lives of Writers and she’s amazing: https://thelivesofwriters.com/episodes/hilary-leichter ↩︎