Brood Over Your Endings

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Kathleen Turner in Romancing the Stone

The English actor Edmund Keane, on his deathbed, was heard to remark, “Dying is easy. Comedy is hard.”

In the same vein, I’ve always averred that beginnings are easy. Endings are hard. I can write opening chapters all day long. But to stick a novel after it, keep readers turning pages, and then wrap it up in such a way that it leaves them so supremely satisfied they go out looking for more of my books…that’s the hard part.

I’m fond of quoting Mickey Spillane’s admonition: “The first chapter sells the book. The last chapter sells the next book.” That’s why I wrote an entire tome on the art and craft of unforgettable endings.

Today I want to talk about process. Because with each novel I learn a little more about this incredible, wonderful craft of ours, always looking for tweaks to my approach. I’m thinking about that as I get ready to write the last scenes of my next Mike Romeo thriller. Specifically, I’m learning again the value of brooding—giving time to my mind to ponder, create, devise.

As an outliner, I always have an ending in mind when I start writing. It is subject to change without notice, of course. The exact details will have to be worked out. But the characters involved, the stakes, and the feeling I want to achieve are there.

I watch this scene in the movie theater of my mind.

Now I’m at the place in my WIP where Romeo is about to engage in a final battle with high stakes—the highest so far for my hero.

Here is where I slow down to brood.

For the last three weeks, even as I’ve been writing toward the end, I’ve spent time away from the keyboard just to think about that scene and the choreography of it. For everything to work, the setting is crucial. I know where it’s going to happen—at a particular spot in L.A. (shocker!).

I’ve spent a good deal of time on Google Maps to get the broad lay of the land.

I’ve driven to the location, taken pictures, and revised some details. (I like to use real locations in my books, though I reserve the right to tweak and even make things up as needed!)

I know exactly what I want to happen, and it’s starting to excite me.

That’s key. If the ending doesn’t excite me how is it going to excite the reader?

But as the scene has become more vivid, I’ve encountered some problems. This is a good thing. Overcoming plot problems is one of the skills we need to develop as writers. I’ve come to believe that any problem can be overcome if you give it enough time.

My problems included the right weaponry (how does Mike get what he needs?), the presence of police (how does the final battle happen with cops all around?), and the terrain (people on the street, cars, buildings).

For each one I did more research, watching the scene again as a movie in my mind. The nice thing about being a writer is that you don’t have to spend money on expensive re-shoots. A studio won’t shut down your production.

Brooding lets the Boys in the Basement do their work. I’ll be going about my non-writing business, even just sitting in a chair reading a book, when the Boys send up a note with an insight or a possibility. (I’ve got to remember to send them some donuts.)

I test every change by asking if it makes me more excited. If so, it stays in.

The last—and to me, the most important element—is resonance. Resonance is the very last note you leave with the reader. Like the perfect ending to a Beethoven symphony, it lingers with you long after the concert is over. That’s why the last page of my novel is always the one I work on most.

Remember that great opening scene in Romancing the Stone? The romance writer (Kathleen Turner) is typing her ending, which is shown onscreen. When we cut to her at the keyboard, she has just finished and is weeping copious tears. Her ending has captured her as if it were real life (which, in the film, it soon will be!)

“No tears in the writer,” wrote Robert Frost, “no tears in the reader.”

So brood. Watch. Edit. Brood some more. Then write those last pages for all they’re worth.

What is your approach to writing the ending of your novel? When do you know you’ve really nailed it?

Oh yes! If you’d like to get in on the ground floor of the Romeo series, the first book, Romeo’s Rules, is now 99¢ on Kindle for a limited time. Order here.

Outside the U.S., go to your Amazon store and search for: B015OXVAQ0

40 thoughts on “Brood Over Your Endings”

  1. I always know my beginning and I always know my ending. It’s the middles that make me crazy.

    I know I’ve hit it when I get the “this is the way things ought to be” feeling and I lose all desire to tweak it.

  2. I’m with you, Jim. Endings are hard. It doesn’t pay to give them short shrift. Sticking the landing is so crucial, because the ending gives the reader the story payoff for the narrative they just finished. And, hopefully, an emotional payoff as well. I really like your approach to making sure you’ve nailed that ending.

    Years ago, I took a workshop from Walter John Williams that actually had you start with the ending and then work backwards to the beginning. It was an eye-opener, and is still a technique I try from time to time. It can be another great way to unstick a stuck story, even if you’ve started “conventionally” with your outline by beginning at the beginning.
    BTW, Romancing the Stone is such a fun movie. A few months ago I caught The Lost City a 2022 film about a romance novelist, played by Sandra Bullock, who gets swept up in archeological adventures. Humor, adventure, mystery, and romance, just like in Romancing the Stone and it’s sequel. Great fun, with a satisfying ending. Oh, and make sure and watch all of the credits, because there’s a very fun post-ending scene.

    Thanks for today’s post. Such an important topic! Have a great Sunday.

    • “Stick the landing” is great metaphor, Dale. We’ve seen that many times, a great routine, and that little hiccup at the end, and we thing, “Aw, too bad.” It’s a good thing we writers get to do it over and over till we’re satisfied!

  3. Agree with Cynthia. Though I take care with beginnings and endings, it’s those doggone middles that are the toughest. As far as endings, I know i’ve nailed it if I’ve written an ending that gives me that ultimate feeling of satisfaction–knowing that it concludes in a very interesting, satisfying way–when I feel that the reader is going to be pleased with the wrap up that puts the whole picture together.

    Also it’s most satisfying to me if the ending leaves the reader curious about some aspect of the character or their situation. I don’t mean blatantly not finishing the story and forcing them to book 2, but I just want the reader’s thoughts to linger on the character for a moment. To me that means the protag wasn’t just skin deep.

    I often end up rewriting my endings (though not as many times as beginnings). It’ll be something like “Nah, that’s too melodramatic. Start over,” or things like that until I get the ending I want.

    • BK, I like it, too, when the ending indicates something “more” to the character than when we began. We sense the future for him or her–as a changed person.

  4. Wonderful discussion, Jim. I love that we get the benefit of hearing about your new discoveries with craft. I’m going to read The Last Fifty Pages again.

    My first reader, like yours, is my wife. Her name is also Cindy. And she is my “resonance expert.” When I think I’ve nailed the ending, I let her read it. She doesn’t pull any punches. And I continue revising until she beams and says, “now that’s an ending.”

    In yesterday’s discussion, Kay DiBianca reminded me of something else I do to find the perfect ending. Kay mentions that she discusses story idea problems with her “main editor,” her husband. I don’t discuss many story idea issues with my wife, but when it comes to the ending (and I have failed to excite her) we discuss the issue at length. It seems to me that verbalizing the problem and discussing solutions opens up synaptic circuits and illuminates the path forward more quickly. I guess that’s why we have writer groups.

    I look forward to your next Mike Romeo book.

    • Gotta love our Cindy-Editors! I wouldn’t think of moving on a MS until Mrs. B has read it.

      Interestingly, I don’t like to discuss the book with here until after she’s read my first draft. I want her to experience it as if she were a reader getting it for the first time. It’s funny how many times over the years she’s said, “I’m happy to talk about where you’re going…” and I never do.

      That may be a mistake. I may have to rethink it!

      • Sorry, Jim. I wasn’t clear. I don’t give my Cindy-editor the book until after the first draft. She wants to read the whole thing, then we do surgery on the ending.

        • Thanks for the clarification, Steve. But I’m still rethinking this plan. I recall a friend of my parents who was one of the Black Mask pulp writers of the glory years, WT ballard. I’ve written about him in this space before. I remember my mom telling me that he would discuss his plotting with his wife, Phoebe. His plots were always full of twists and turns.

          I just haven’t been able to get there yet. I like following the movie In my mind and then springing it on Mrs B. But I’m open to tweaking this. Which is partly what my post is about:–being open to change to find the best way. Cheers!

          • Giving credit where credit is due: Frank has talked me through some plot and character issues. He also came up with the title to my first novel. After > 50 years of marriage, I think he’s a keeper!

  5. Jim—Ditto on beginnings. For me they come easily. Challenge, as you say, is the bottom of the ninth, game on the line, seventh game in the World Series. Or match point in a five setter at Wimbledon.

    Key — at least for me — is repetition. That is. going over what I’ve written over and over (and over) editing and tweaking until, at some point, my unconscious coughs up a solution. Bob Fosse was known to rehearse his dancers over and over (and over) working the details until they hated him. However, come performance, they knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

    The French word for rehearsal is “répétition.” IME it’s a way of becoming intimate in a bone-deep way with your work. At that point, your mind/brain/boys in basement are unleashed. They come up with something way better than anything the mere writer can cook up in advance.

    At least that what works for me. I don’t especially recommend it. Even to myself. Cuz insanely time consuming, detail-oriented, frustrating. Still, as they say, it is what it is. If you can stand it. lol

    • You reminded me of my favorite real-world ending, Ruth: Kirk Gibson’s 9th inning homer in the 1988 World Series. What made it all the more dramatic was: he was facing the best relief pitcher in baseball; he had two injured legs; there were two outs; the count was 3-2. I mean, you could not script that any better.

      What a high bar that is for us! But we should go for it…because even if we fall a little short, it’s still better than anything we might have “settled” for.

      • My brother, a huge Dodgers fan had a restaurant (Duplex) during those years. I asked him if he remembered the game.
        He said, “I remember it quite vividly. The bartender at Duplex brought a radio so that we could hear the game (no customers as everyone was at home listening or watching). In the event’s honor, I invented a drink to feature. The Kirk Gibson. A Gibson served up with the onion garnish being two that hung outside of the rim and one inside thus being Gibson up, two out and one on.”

      • Oh, gosh, do I remember that! He was so hurt, but you’d never know it from the way he fist-pumped his way around the bases. That it was off Eckersley only made it sweeter. And the frosting on the cake was the call by the inimitable Vin Scully!

        Thanks for popping that into my head, Jim!

  6. Your craft book on endings is one of my all-time favorites, Jim. Superb.

    With regard to your question, I just brooded over the ending to my new psychological thriller. The one I submitted was good, not great. When I read the book from start to finish during the first round of edits I felt it was missing…something. So, I walked away, mulled it over. By the time I returned to the keyboard, I knew exactly what to do. And my editor loved it! Taking that time to walk away and just think for a while made all the difference.

  7. On my current book, I knew the editor wasn’t going to like the ending, and I was right. We discussed it a little more, and arrived at something we both think is the right way to go. Since it’s a romantic suspense, she always wants the awww ending. There’s a lot of brooding that goes on because “traditionally” the mystery/suspense plot has to be resolved first, and it’s the romance that gets tied up last. Because of the pacing of the genre, the hero and heroine have usually known each other only a few days, maybe a week, so the HEA has never been an option for me. But the promise of one is usually how I tie up that thread. It’s making it believable that’s hard.

    • Terry, that Aww ending is for any genre, IMO. And it always involves the last scene after the main plot has been wrapped up. This is what I go for.

      Three examples spring to mind: Lost Light (Connelly); Midnight (Koontz); Eight Million Ways to Die (Block).

  8. Yes, mulling is writing, too, even if the word count for that day is zero.

    Some books can have only one ending. Don Quixote, for example. My picaresque novel, Rev. 7, had many possible outcomes, but I’d selected a rather lame one. A friend suggested an alternative that was even lamer, but it inspired the Boys in the Attic to create a more fiendish ending, with prankster Tenerax sent aloft by his own petard, in danger of attracting the attention of the Inquisition, which, in those days, everyone expected.

  9. Good stuff this morning!

    I’m a little different about the ending. They come at me like a downhill locomotive and all I can do is just hang on for the ride.

    Re: Plot problems. I’ve learned that some of the most daunting issues can be corrected with a single sentence earlier on. It comes from that old adage, write tight.

    Later gator.

  10. I have a general idea of an ending before I begin, but few if any of the details. As a pantser, the mood of the story evolves along with the plotline, so my endings vary from harsh to introspective. Then there’s almost always a coda chapter of only a couple of pages that resets the characters. I think readers like to see that Jonathan and his team are back to their normal lives.

    The tricky thing with ending thrillers is to recognize that once the Big Thing is accomplished, the reader is ready to move on to their next book. I think it’s incumbent on the writer to open that exit door as quickly as possible. One of my bugaboos with many mysteries is the since-I’m-going-to-kill-you-anyway-here’s-all-the-stuff-the-author-didn’t-reveal-yet chapter.

    • John, you are a master of the coda (e.g., Nathan’s Run). And so right about wrapping the dang thing up quick!

      We’ve all seen too much of the “talkative killer” at the end of a TV show or novel. Talking just enough so the cop friend can show up and shoot him, or some such. As you say, it’s a tricky thing to work around it and still give the reader all the info.

  11. Great stuff this morning, TKZers all. Thanks for learnin’ me again.

    One ending in a completed WIP is the only one it could have. I put myself in my MC’s shoes. And said, “Yup!” 🙂

    The last sentence wrapped up all that had happened to her, made sense of it, and completed her journey in the same way mine will be completed.

    “Nuff said . . .

  12. I like my endings to reflect an element of the opening and also to hint at how the mc has grown. Perhaps the ending takes place in the exact same spot, but she may limp now. Or he may be packing for a move from his hometown.

    • I think it was Joyce Carol Oates who said she can’t write the opening sentence until she has written the last one. I do refer back to my openings as I go toward my endings. Usually, it’s all there in embryo.

  13. One of the advantages of writing a romance or a secondary romance plot is it’s easy to stick the landing for myself and the reader. Give them a mushy happy ending with a sense of the future with a bit of what the non-romance or emotional journey to this point was all about for that extra resonance.

  15. “Brood.” When I read your post, I realized this is the perfect word for my writing process! I brood all the way through the book.

    Like others, I find the opening to be easiest. Get the thing moving, then see where you end up. I’m about 25K words into my WIP now, and I recently wrote a scene that may serve as the ending. I’m going to re-read your book, Jim, and see if this ending satisfies the “resonance” requirement.

    Then I’ll go back and brood over the middle.

  16. I’m working on the ending of a short story at the moment I’m not quite sure about. It feels okay but not great. Going to brood on it a bit and see if the better version arrives.

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