Hi folks,
This is a rerun of a post I ran some time back and I had a couple of requests to post it again. Hope you glean a few things from it to help inform your own writing!
I’d
like to talk about novel endings and what makes a compelling finale to your
novel. There’s no way I can cover everything that goes into a great ending, but
I’ll try to cover some of the more important elements.
Before
we get to the ending, we need to discuss what leads up to that point. Let’s
look at basic story structure. Simplified, a novel structurally consists of a
protagonist and an antagonist as the two most important characters. The
protagonist has something happen to him or her (inciting incident) that creates
a surface problem (that’s actually symptomatic of a story-worthy problem) which
will occupy him or her for the rest of the novel, trying to resolve it. The
antagonist also has a goal and it’s his or her goal that provides the
opposition for the protagonist in resolving his or her goal. The struggle to
resolve the problem(s) against increasing opposition occupies the majority of
the novel.
It
might be helpful to define our terms before we begin.
Protagonist: Simply the
individual through whose persona we (readers) experience the story.
I
urge writers to never think of the protagonist as the “hero” or even “main
character.” To see this character as a hero reduces the character to a
one-dimensional, cardboard character, ala “Dudley Doright.” Moral qualities,
such as good and bad, shouldn’t apply to the protagonist or the antagonist. Can
they be good or bad? Sure, but to define them in that way as their chief
characteristic makes it likely you’ll create cartoonish characters rather than
fully-developed literary characters. To see this character as your “main
character” reduces the value of characterization to the novel and
overemphasizes plot. And, there is one protagonist per novel, not several. Not
“co-protagonists” or multiple protagonists. That person can have multiple
“helpers” or aides or helpers or even equal partners, but it needs to be one person we see.
Antagonist: The individual
whose goal conflicts with that of the protagonist’s surface problem goal always
and sometimes the story-worthy goal as well.
It’s
even more important not to think of the antagonist as a villain. Even more so
than the protagonist, that can really lead to a Snidely Whiplash type of
character. Can he or she be a bad or evil person? Certainly, but you’ll create
a much more believable and interesting character if you simply view that person
as an individual whose goal conflicts with that of the protagonist. The villain
can also have as many lieutenants or allies as you wish.
Inciting
incident: Something
that happens to the protagonist that creates and/or reveals the surface story
problem to the protagonist. The inciting incident is what needs to begin the
contemporary novel. Anything before that event is backstory or setup and shouldn’t
precede the inciting incident beginning. If the backstory is important, it can
come later, once the reader is invested in the protagonist’s problem. Novels
are about one thing only and always—trouble. Today’s novels need to begin when
the trouble begins, not before. And, the trouble has to begin with the inciting
incident as before that happens there is no trouble, at least not in story
terms.
Surface story
problem: A
bona fide problem that is revealed to the protagonist as a result of the
inciting incident. While it is a serious problem, it’s not as serious as the story-worthy problem it’s symptomatic
of. Usually, it’s posed as a somewhat superficial goal—love, money, solving a
crime, achieving success of some kind, etc.
Story-worthy
problem:
The “real” problem of the protagonist and which the surface problem is
symptomatic of. It’s usually a deep-seated psychological problem. The
story-worthy problem isn’t known to the protagonist at the beginning of the
story. It is only through the struggle to resolve the surface problem that the
more important problem begins to be revealed, and the full realization is
usually achieved in the final scene when both the surface problem and
story-worthy problem are resolved. Although the story-worthy problem isn’t
revealed to the protagonist until they’ve gone through the struggle to resolve
the surface problem, the author should be aware of it so that he or she can
create an effective plot to get to that point.
Plot: A plot is simply a point-by-point list
of all the causal actions that the protagonist takes to resolve the problem. A
plot will show such things as: inciting incident, which leads to awareness of
problem, first step to resolve the problem, which leads to disaster (failure to
achieve the main goal), which leads to step two and so on, against increasing
opposition, until the last scene in which the problem is resolved. The “spine”
of the book and the plot is the protagonist’s problem and that problem should
color every single page in the novel and be behind every action he or she
takes. If coincidence occurs, it must always have a negative effect on the
protagonist and should never be the source of help or in resolving the problem.
If coincidence helps the protagonist, then what you have is what is called an…
idiot plot. Don’t go there!
Goals: Both the
protagonist and the antagonist have goals. Each of their goals is to resolve
their individual surface problems. While the protagonist will also end up
having a story-worthy problem goal, the antagonist doesn’t. His or hers is only
a surface problem that just happens to be in conflict with the protagonist’s
problem.
These
definitions may or may not be instantly clear to you at this point, but after
our time here together should be. I’d just like you to be aware of them so that
this makes sense as you read on.
So,
okay, where’s the stuff about novel endings? Relax! It’s coming, I promise.
To
illustrate all of this, I’d like to use a teaching model I use quite often. The
film, Thelma & Louise, written by
Callie Khouri. It’s a film most people have seen so it should be a familiar
model. You might want to rent it again to refresh your memory.
Let’s
go through the story.
First,
the inciting incident. Remember, this is something
that happens to the protagonist that creates and/or reveals the surface story
problem.
The
inciting incident in T&L is in
the beginning, where the protagonist, Thelma (no co-protagonists here, although
sometimes people mistakenly think Louise is a co-protagonist.) She’s not. She’s
the Older Mentor character, if you want to ascribe a label to her. The incident
occurs when Thelma’s talking to her husband Darryl as he prepares to leave for
work. It’s been established that she is required to ask his permission before
embarking on her weekend trip with Louise. She starts to ask him twice for that
permission. There’s important backstory here, but it’s not revealed until much
later in the story when the two women pick up J.T. and talk and Thelma reveals
she’s been married to him for four years and dated him through all four years
of high school. The backstory is that she’s been with Darryl for eight years
and probably in an abusive relationship. That’s shown by the way they talk to each
other. All that’s needed. The intelligent reader/viewer “gets” that instantly.
Thelma
is fully aware she’s in a bad situation, and, from time-to-time has performed
actions to deal with it. She’s probably spit in Darryl’s food, gossiped and
complained about him to Louise, not given her all in bed, whatever. Other
times, she ignores her problem. But, it’s not yet to the point where it becomes
the biggest single problem in her life and at a stage where nothing can get in
the way of her resolving it. That’s what’s required to raise what’s only a “bad
situation” to the level of becoming a story problem. If she can still ignore it for a
time, can alibi what her true state is for a time to herself, can even forget
her problem for a time… then it’s not yet a story problem... or a story. It’s only when she reaches
her tipping point, when that “straw that broke the camel’s back” moment occurs
and reveals to her that it’s the single
biggest problem in her life and that she can no longer ignore it, even
briefly, that it becomes a story. In T&L,
Thelma’s inciting incident is a small, dramatic moment. We’ve seen clearly via
the phone conversations with Louise that it’s imperative Thelma ask Darryl for
permission to go on the trip with her. She even begins to… twice. It’s the
second time she starts to ask his permission that constitutes her inciting
incident. It’s what Darryl does to her—remember?—the inciting incident is
something that happens to the
protagonist? What Darryl does, is something he’s no doubt done before, But—this
time it’s different. This time it’s the one time too many that he’s done this.
And what does he do? Simple. She attempts to ask him the second time for
permission and he crudely and rudely dismisses her, treating her as an
annoyance rather than as his wife and a person. It’s the tipping point for her,
the inciting incident, the thing that finally reveals her problem clearly to
her. (Keep in mind that the word “problem” in story terms doesn’t have the same
definition as the lay term. In story terms, it’s more than a bad situation—it’s
a problem that the protagonist won’t let go away until it’s resolved.)
Here’s
the actual scene:
THELMA goes through the
living room to the bottom of the stairs and leans on the banister.
THELMA
(hollering again)
Darryl! Honey, you’d better hurry up.
DARRYL comes trotting down
the stairs. Polyester was made for this man and he’s dripping in “men’s”
jewelry. He manages a Carpeteria.
DARRYL
(annoyed)
Dammit, Thelma, don’t holler like that! Haven’t I told
you I can’t stand it when you holler in the morning?
THELMA
(sweetly and coyly)
I’m sorry, Doll, I just didn’t want you to be late.
DARRYL is checking himself
out in the hall mirror and it’s obvious he likes what he sees. He exudes
confidence for reasons that never become apparent. He likes to think of himself
as a real lady-killer. He is making imperceptible adjustments to his overmoused
hair. THELMA watches approvingly.
(My note. This was the setup. Now comes the inciting incident.)
THELMA
Hon.
DARRYL
(still annoyed)
What.
THELMA
(she decides not to tell
him.)
Have a good day at work
today.
DARRYL
Uh-huh.
THELMA
Hon?
DARRYL
(as if he’s trying to
concentrate.)
What?!
THELMA
You want anything special for dinner?
And,
that’s the inciting incident. For perhaps the hundredth time (or more!) in
their relationship, she started to do what she’s always done in the past—ask
for her husband’s permission to go on the trip. But… something’s different this
time. With his evident attitude—his crude dismissal of her and of anything
she’s trying to say—she reaches her limit. Before this point, she’s just put up
with him and played the dutiful wife. This time, her problem is clearly revealed to her. The little light in the
refrigerator of her mind just clicked on. This is why it’s important to
understand the complete definition of the inciting incident. (The inciting
incident is something that happens to the protagonist that creates and/or reveals the story problem to
her.) If she has what appears to be a problem but it’s not clearly revealed to
her that she has, then it’s not yet a problem in story terms. It has to be
revealed and clearly to her. That’s the only thing in the definition that has to be there in the inciting incident
scene. The problem—at least to others—may have been there for a long time. She
may have even been very aware of a bad situation. But, until that moment when
it reaches the level of being the most important problem in her life—a problem
that she can’t ignore another minute until it’s resolved—it’s only a bad
situation and not a story problem.
Also,
the inciting incident should be a dramatic
scene, not a melodramatic one. And this is.
A small, dramatic opening should then begin to build until the biggest scene of
all—the final one. Many writers make the mistake of thinking they have to open
with not a dramatic scene, but a melodramatic one. If you open with a murder,
kidnapping, bomb explosion and the like—where do you go from there? More
murders, more kidnappings, bigger bombs? This is not to say a novel can’t open
with that kind of thing, but if your novel’s not a thriller, per se, you might
want to reconsider that strategy.
Some
believe the inciting incident was when Harlan tried to rape Thelma. Nope.
That’s just the “Point of No Return” moment. That event wouldn’t have even been
possible if Thelma had asked for Darryl’s permission. That was the real
inciting incident—an event from which everything else derived.
And
Darryl isn’t the antagonist. Not even close. He’s a one-dimensional, cardboard
character. A cartoon. Snidley Whiplash. The antagonist? Hal, the Arkansas cop.
Remember, Thelma’s goal, as it evolves, is to escape being caught and forced to exist in a male-dominated world. Hal’s goal
is to catch her. He’s not a bad guy at all (remember, I said to not think of
the antagonist as a “villain?”). He’s one of the best and nicest guys in the
story. He wants to save the two women, first from going to jail, and in the
end, from being killed. His goals are strictly good and honorable. His goal
simply opposes Thelma’s goal and that’s the only definition of an antagonist.
Thelma’s
surface problem is to escape Darryl’s domination… for a weekend. Seeing who and
what kind of person her husband is,
creates instantly reader identification for her as well as sympathy and
empathy. Already, we’d like to see her have some fun. It’s obvious she’s had
very little with this butthole.
So,
her surface problem is Darryl’s domination of her. But, remember I said the
surface problem is only symptomatic of
the much bigger, much more important, deeper psychological problem the
protagonist faces? It’s very true in this story. The story begins with Thelma
trying to resolve the surface problem—escaping Darryl’s domination, even if for
just a weekend—but, as events progress, little by little, Thelma eventually
comes to the realization that she has a much bigger problem. That she’s forced
to exist in a male-dominated world. It’s much bigger than just Darryl as she gradually comes to realize as events progress.
I
wanted to go over these things so that the ending—which is what this is all
about!—makes complete sense. Now. Here’s the definition of a quality ending:
Ending: A novel ending
should contain two elements—a win and a loss. That’s in terms of the
protagonist’s goals, both surface and story-worthy. Years ago, we used to teach
writers that endings should be either “goal-achieved” or “goal-unachieved.”
Like most things, we’ve learned better ways to express story structure. An
ending that only achieves the protagonist’s goal as well as an ending in which
is the protagonist’s goal is lost are both incomplete and unsatisfactory
endings. There must be elements of both to make it a good ending.
Like
everything important in a story, the ending should always be presented as a
scene. Never by exposition or summary or the character ruminating in his/her
head. Through a scene. And, there are particular requirements for this scene.
As Janet Burroway, in her classic text, Writing
Fiction, says about resolutions: “Here the epiphany, a memory leading to a
resolution, has been triggered by an
action and sensory details that the reader can share.” (Italics mine.) It’s
a scene that can’t depend on conversation to make it work. It can’t, for
instance, have the protagonist talking to a priest who then convinces her of a
truth, and that gives her her epiphany. The resolution has to be triggered by an action—and an “action”
in this case, isn’t dialog. It has to be a physical action.
What’s
the physical action in the ending of T&L?
That’s easy. They’re just been chased and are now surrounded on all sides by
cops who are ordering them to put their hands up or get killed. Surrounded on
all sides except in front of them, where the Grand Canyon lies. Sensory
details? Plenty! Cops jacking shells into carbines, a helicopter’s rotors swirling
dust, an authoritative voice over a bullhorn demanding they surrender. No way
out, except… This triggers the epiphany for Thelma. And, what is the memory
that leads to a resolution for her? Again, easy. Even though we can’t see it in
the film, we understand what’s going through her mind. The memory of Darryl and
her abusive relationships, and, even more important, the new knowledge that her
entire world is controlled by men as evidenced by what’s happened in their
journey. Selfish men, like Darryl, evil men like the tanker truck driver and
Harlan, the would-be rapist, manipulative men like J.T., and even good, moral
men, like Hal and Louise’s boyfriend, Jimmy. But… all men. At the very end,
Thelma realizes her surface problem (getting free of Darryl, even if just for a
weekend) is only symptomatic of a much bigger and deeper, psychological problem
for her—having to exist in a male-dominated world with no voice at all. She
didn’t know this at the beginning. In the beginning, she was only aware that
Darryl was a shit. In the end, as a result of everything she’d gone through,
she finally comes to the realization that Darryl was only a small part of what
she faced in society.
And
so, she does the only thing left for her to do. She and Louise tacitly agree to
commit suicide. They seal their decision with a kiss and then hold hands as
they hurtle into infinity. And, that, satisfies the two elements in a quality
ending, by providing both a win and a loss. The loss? Easy. She gives up her
life. The win? Again, easy. She achieves her independence from men on her own
terms. It cost her her life, but the tradeoff was worth it to her.
This
is a fairly common ending. It’s seen, for instance, in Toni Morrison’s novel Beloved, where the mother kills her
child to keep her from having to live in slavery. It’s seen in any number of
war novels where the protagonist gives up his or her life to preserve a way of
life for loved ones.
This
doesn’t mean protagonists have to commit suicide to achieve a good ending. This
is just one of countless possible endings. But, however you end your story,
just make sure it contains both a win and a loss for the protagonist. That’s
key.
What’s
interesting about this movie is that some of the studio execs wanted to change
Khouri’s brilliant ending to a typical Hollywood “happy-sappy” ending. One
where they surrendered, spent a few years in prison, and were released to live
out some kind of Stepford wives’ existence ever after…
Thankfully,
she stood her ground and they released the intelligent version!
Hope
this helps you in creating your own endings. Hope to see your work on the
shelves of Border’s and Barnes & Noble!
Blue
skies,
Les
Edgerton
http://www.amazon.com/Mirror-ebook/dp/B009VNN40K/ref=sr_1_1_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1352770141&sr=1-1&keywords=mirror%2C+mirror+by+les+edgerton
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