Beginnings Are Easy. Endings Are Hard.

by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Back when Lost became a TV phenomenon, I watched the first season and was just as hooked as everybody else. Man! Each episode ended with an inexplicable and shocking mystery, and I had to keep watching.

A group of my writing friends were also caught up, posting how fabulous this all was.

But then came the second season, and I posted a warning. “It’s easy to come up with a cliffhanger if you don’t have to explain it. The day of reckoning is coming. I think you’re going to be massively disappointed.”

“Bah,” came the answers. “The show is great!”

“Just wait,” I said.

“Bah!”

Well, the day of reckoning finally came. I was on Twitter while the final episode was showing. It was a madhouse of frustration and even rage, with an occasional defense that got ratioed badly.

Some time after this, leaked documents and private conversations with the writers came out. One of the writers was asked by his friend, “How are you going to pay all this stuff off?” And the writer answered, “We’re not. We literally just think of the weirdest most f****** up thing and write it and we’re never going to pay it off.”

Mission accomplished.

But for those of us who write mysteries and thrillers we hope will sell and make fans, that’s not how we roll. We all want a satisfying, resonant ending.

I can write opening chapters all day long that’ll grab you by the lapels and get you flipping to Chapters 2, 3 and beyond. But wrapping up a twisty plot in a way that is both unpredictable and convincing? That takes some work.

That’s why, before I start writing, I have to know who the bad guy is, his motive, and his secrets. It takes imagination and brainstorming. That’s why one of the greatest plotters of the pulp era, Erle Stanley Gardner, spent hours walking around, talking to himself, working on what he called “the murderer’s ladder” before he wrote one word of a new story.

The murderer’s ladder was Gardner’s way of showing the step-by-step machinations of the villain, from the initial act of treachery (usually murder) through the first attempts at cover up, and then progressive steps to keep from getting caught.

The worth of this pre-work is that all of the villain’s steps are “off screen” in what I call the shadow story. Knowing the shadow story is the key to plotting mystery and suspense. You know what the villain is planning (the reader does not) and that spills into the present story in the form of red herrings and various ways the villain attempts to evade, frustrate, or even kill the hero.

In working out the murderer’s ladder, you avoid having to rely on a contrived ending to wrap things up.

Plus, as you outline (or just starts writing, if that’s what floats your boat), the plot starts to unfold almost automatically. I say almost because your main task now is to avoid predictability. When you know the shadow story, that’s easy. You can pause at each step and ask yourself: What is the best off screen move the villain can make? Also, ask yourself what the typical reader would expect to happen next—and then do something different. If you work off the shadow story, the ending will ultimately make sense.

Of course, your ending is subject to change without notice. Sometimes a new twist ending occurs to you as you close in on the final pages. That happened to me with Romeo’s Town. The nice thing was, the steps on the murderer’s ladder were the same. All I had to do was tweak them a bit.

Yes, endings are harder than beginnings. They’re also more important, because that’s the last impression you make on the reader. It’s what sells, in Mickey Spillane’s axiom, your next book.

The ending of this post is brought to you by The Last Fifty Pages: The Art and Craft of Unforgettable Endings.

Discuss!

24 thoughts on “Beginnings Are Easy. Endings Are Hard.

  1. I’m trying to wrap this book up. I rarely know who the bad guy is when I start, but it comes to me along the way. This book? I have a bunch of bad guys. I’ve resolved what happens to all but one of them, and the “real” bad guy, the one behind the scheme, never shows up on the page.
    Wish me luck! It goes to my editor on November 1st, so there’s still time to untangle the spaghetti.

    • Ha! Love your descripton, Terry. “Untangling the spaghetti.” That’s what the murderer’s ladder seeks to avoid…it goes for perfectly layered lasagna!

    • Not having your bad guy on page was considered cheating in classic mystery. You have to give the reader a fair chance to figure it out. You are a gifted writer who can pull this off, though.

      • I should clarify that having the villain make plans and moves “off screen” does not mean that he doesn’t appear on the page. It’s just the reveal that shows us what the shadow story was.

        Good catch.

  2. Perfectly timed post! It’s just about time to start plotting mystery #2. Thank you!

  3. The title says it all, Jim. Love the idea of the villain’s ladder. Since I’m plotting my next book, I’ll try it. The Last Fifty Pages: The Art and Craft of Unforgettable Endings rocked! I’ve re-read several times when I’m weighing two different endings. Can’t recommend it highly enough. It’s a must read.

  4. Good morning, Jim.

    I agree. The ending has to be both surprising and satisfying to the reader. I’ve read a few books where the ending just sort of limped off the page, like the author didn’t know what to do, so he/she just stopped writing.

    I don’t plot my stories at the outset, but I have a general idea of where things are going. I usually get a few surprises along the way.

  5. I have to know the ending before I start, not necessarily all the details of the climax/confrontation, but the overall gist. With mysteries, I also need to work out the shadow story. Gardner’s murder’s ladder has helped me refine this.

    One risk is losing sight of the hero-sleuth’s POV, since I’ve spent so much time figuring out the murder’s perspective. You really need to have a sort of multi-consciousness where you can drop into one character’s head when plotting, pull up again. It’s work, but the result is well worth it. I know another approach to crafting mysteries is to uncover the details alongside the sleuth, but I much prefer finding the shadow story beforehand. Of course, that might change and will almost certainly deepen as a write, but it gives me a foundation.

    For the record, I was one of those unhappy and disappointed viewers at the ending of Lost, especially since they went where they said they weren’t going to as far as what was really going on.

  6. JIm, I’m printing this out to save (I only print out the best stuff!). The murderer’s ladder is a great tool. Time for me to re-read The Last 50 Pages again.

    I’m swamped with beta reading right now which has kept me from starting Romeo’s Town. Grrr. I have to do my homework before I can go and play with books for pleasure.

  7. I was one of the hoodwinked Lost viewers who was enraged by the ending—the entire final season, in fact. It was an absolute joke. What’s worse, the writers came out and said if you didn’t like the ending, then you just didn’t “get it.” So, it was the audience’s fault. Oof.

    • That seems to be the trend if most of the audience dislikes or understands the story: playing the blame game and blaming the audience. If most of the audience finds a problem with the story, then the writer must look at his/her story and see what went wrong, what the audience found a problem with, and why.

  8. For new writers without a clue, literally, I always suggested that they write the backstory of the main villain, why he does it, and what he wants to achieve. “Because I want him to” is never a valid plot reason.

  9. Beginnings Are Easy. Endings Are Hard.
    Truer words were never spoke. Someday I hope to publish an anthology of first chapters of novels I’ve never finished writing. I’ll call it, “Look! A Squirrel!”

  10. Gosh, do you remember Twin Peaks (TV series, 1990/1991)? I was hooked — until I realized David Lynch just dropped plot lines in favor of new ones. He was like some kind of mad collector who picked up shiny objects but then forgot about them as soon as he saw the next one on the horizon. At the time, I felt it revealed contempt for his audience: who cares what the rubes want? Just like other viewers, I lost interest. I don’t *care* who murdered Laura Palmer.

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