February 3, 2018
Narrative Endings: How to Pick the Right One
They say that all good things must come to an end. I don’t believe in endings, as I don’t believe in beginnings. Blame my academic background, but I prefer to focus on duration and temporal chunks. Having said that, a novel has to end in some way, because there is a physical limit to how many pages you can put out there. But are narrative endings and physical endings one and the same? (Sneak preview: no)
In today’s post I’ll share with you an important secret about narrative endings: if you do things right, there’s one and only one ending that suits your book of fiction. I’ll give you the details below, but basically it goes like this: if you can’t pick that one ending, whether because it feels wrong or because you can’t find it, it means your structure is wrong. This might sound awful, but see the flip side of it: if your ending feels right, it usually means the entire narrative preceding it is also right.
On Narrative Endings and Journeys
My experience allows me to see a “bad” ending before it even arrives. But what is a bad narrative ending? This can mean different things to different people, but to me a book with a poor ending means a story that has not reached its predetermined conclusion. In other words, a poor ending occurs when the author finishes the novel in a way that doesn’t feel necessary considering the narrative preceding it. Let’s take a closer look at this.
A Narrative Consists of Journeys
A novel is a text that tells a story. In order for this story to be engaging and convey rich meanings, it must be structured. Imagine leaving your house to go to your friend’s. There is a direct route, but often you might take a longer one because it’s more scenic; or, perhaps you want to pass by the grocery store first.
A narrative works the same way: you go from one point to the next, but you don’t take the straight road – if you did, the result would probably be lackluster. Indeed, the journey is often more important than the destination or the departure point. Take a look at my article on linear narratives.
The sum of all these journeys (of all the characters, of all the timelines) is what makes a narrative. But how is that related to narrative endings?
Narrative Endings are nothing but Logical Conclusions of Narrative Journeys
Let’s continue our earlier metaphor: imagine you’ve left home on your way to your friend’s. You could pass from the grocery store or you could pass from the liquor store; maybe you could pass by the scenic park or by the port. You have full control of these choices, you can pick your route. But, once you’ve made your choice, certain repercussions are generated.
If you stopped by the liquor store on your way to your friend’s, the two of you will have a drink, but no pizza. If you passed by the port instead of the park, you would’ve seen ships and boats, not trees and shrubs. Narrative endings operate in the same way, albeit in a more complex manner. Narrative endings are the logical conclusions of the narrative journeys before them.
How do you recognize the right one, might be your next question.
Picking the Right Narrative Ending
Generally speaking (different genres require slightly different approaches), a narrative ending comprises of two factors with two options each, for a total of four possibilities:
Surprising and inevitable
This is the ideal outcome, the one you should be aiming for. A narrative conclusion should be both surprising (in the sense that it’s not stereotypical) yet also absolutely necessary, considering the narrative preceding it. Would you like an example? Take The Green Mile, for instance. The ending is inevitable, because any ending where the character of John Coffey would survive would be unacceptable – it would render the plot meaningless. At the same time, however, it is also surprising, because the reader ultimately realizes the age of the narrator – Paul Edgecombe – and the repercussions involved.
Surprising and avoidable
A narrative ending that is surprising but avoidable comes off as cheap. It screams “authorial trickery”, and leaving a reader with such a taste is not good at all. To say that an ending is surprising and avoidable is basically a fancier way of referring to a Deus Ex Machina ending: another term I like – it’s really funny! – is alien space bats. Basically, the plot has stalled so much in terms of narrative journeying, that the author (unable to resolve it) comes up with a fanciful, improbable solution. It comes off as surprising, but since it’s avoidable the reader feels cheated. Many low-quality crime-fiction narratives work like that: a character is introduced a little before the ending, and the entire solution is predicated on his/her presence. Sometimes even the murderer shows up a couple of chapters before the conclusion, out of thin air.
Predictable and inevitable
Although not ideal, I personally find this ending preferable to the one right above. Narrative endings that are inevitable are structurally solid: the narrative journey has reached a logical conclusion, and the entire story has arrived at the point it was meant to arrive. Perhaps it comes off as a bit stereotypical, but it’s a better feeling to leave the reader with, as long as it was an inevitable ending. Take as an example Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. The ending is quite predictable (who would expect any of the “good guys” in such a film to die?) and also inevitable: the holy grail cannot give eternal life (unless you remain in the confines of the temple), because that would throw the world into chaos. Additionally, the character of Elsa Schneider must die, because of her deeds during the film. It’s a Spielberg film, what do you expect…
Predictable and avoidable
This is a weird case. You would instinctively think it’s a really bad outcome, but this isn’t necessarily true. I think it’s still better than case 2, above. Indeed, in certain genres (I’m thinking of fantasy or science fiction, for instance), an ending that is predictable and avoidable is probably the norm. Does that make it ideal? Perhaps not, but it’s still acceptable. The reason it is more acceptable in such genres, is because of their intrinsic nature. If you’re a perceptive reader (and writer!) you can likely guess why: in such narratives there is greater latitude for the Deus ex Machina factor – one example would be B.J. Cyprian’s Shadow Resistance, reviewed here. In other words, in fantasy or science fiction it feels less of a “cheat” to bend the “rules” a bit. It’s still a bit sloppy, though, in my opinion.
Do remember that this is only a generalization. As I mentioned, different genres will require slightly different approaches, and of course each narrative is to an extent unique. But this is a good starting point.
A Final Word on Narrative Endings and Open-Endedness
In the introductory paragraph of this article, I said that narrative endings and physical endings don’t necessarily have to be one and the same. A book must inevitably finish. A narrative, on the other hand, doesn’t. This becomes a matter of definition, and I dislike playing with words, so I’ll simply offer you the following piece of advice.
Don’t be preoccupied with tying the loose narrative ends. This is precisely the appeal of a proper narrative structure: if it’s a solid one, the ending is already implied. Don’t be afraid to let the reader fill in the blanks. Remember that in a narrative that is properly structured, with a logical development from one point to the next (in terms of concepts, character evolution, plot dynamics and affect, etc.) the ending should be inevitable. Sometimes, and depending on the individual novel, some open-endedness might actually be all the ending that you need.
Of course, the precise balance between one and the other (i.e. open-endedness and narratively tying the loose ends), as well as the degree to which the ending is a cathartic one, depends on authorial priorities including genre-relevant constraints.
2 Comments
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To paraphrase: For a proper negative structure, the ending is already implied.
Makes you wonder why there are so many terrible unsatisfactory endings. As if the author (assuming they set something up at all) attempts to defeat the obvious – when the ending should be the crowning jewel of the story, something that makes you remember the whole story affectionately, because of how it made you feel.
With the additional caveat that some of the best endings are those which HIDE the ending, so that you don’t see it coming, but then turn, and in retrospect, realize it is perfect – and the only ending possible. My preference, for most stories.
If the story is the author’s argument, the ending is the author’s proof. (Sure that’s not original, but think the places I’ve seen it were not the original source, either.) When you plot with Dramatica, it’s not that you set that up to happen, it’s that you’ve already answered the questions in the course of poking at the pieces of the story, and it isn’t a surprise so much as a homecoming.
And it isn’t ambiguous – it is fitting.
You’ve offered many intriguing comments here, and I subscribe to all of them. Yes, that’s exactly how it is: the ending must be the crowning jewel. It should be the detail that somehow brings everything together.
This is not necessarily in terms of plot (indeed many authors fall for the trap of offering an ending that is surprising at all costs, ignoring inevitability).
Rather, I mean it conceptually: the ending must make the reader feel uniqueness; that this is the only ending possible for the story they just read. This, in turn, makes the reader feel unique too, as it connotes inclusion, community, and being offered a glimpse into something special.