On Endings
Finishing a story can be as difficult if not harder than starting one. There’s trepidation about whether all the plot threads are settled or wind up being loose ends; or, perhaps the story is better leaving certain threads unsettled. Does the end truly constitute the end of the story, or is it merely the end of a volume of the story? And if the end is truly the end, is it satisfying or anticlimactic? These sorts of questions got me thinking about what types of endings are out there, which do I prefer, and why. Broadly speaking, I think there are two categories of endings. (By the way, since I’m talking about endings, there’s going to be spoilers about several stories and their endings.)
The Wrap-Up
Stories that leave little-to-no ambiguity of further plot developments are those I consider having endings that are wrap-ups. There may be a loose end here and there, but they are inconsequential to the primary plot. There’s an important distinction between a story with loose ends and a story whose end is loose; the former’s inconsequential plot threads aren’t necessary to resolve, whereas the latter’s plot thread is. A good example of the former is The Princess Bride (the book version): in the end the protagonists escape but their safety and survival is uncertain. While their fate is seemingly important to know, it’s not really necessary. The story already paid off what it set out to do, which was demonstrate true love conquering adversity; my personal opinion is that the “true love” wasn’t merely between Westley and Princess Buttercup (romantic), but also between Inigo and Fezzik (platonic) as well as Inigo and his father (familial). So, stories may seemingly have important points that are open-ended, but the overall story can be wrapped up. Twist endings, too, qualify as being wrap-ups in this sense, such as Agatha Cristie’s Murder on the Orient Express in which the murderer is revealed to be not just one person but multiple people. As for examples of endings whose primary plot is loose…
The Cliffhanger
When the story is left unresolved in its end, you’re left with a cliffhanger. In Cinda Williams Chima’s Flamecaster both the main characters (Ash and Jenna) have unresolved plotlines; while Ash serendipitously got revenge, his guilt for abandoning his family and reconciliation with them is unaddressed; while Jenna, too, got revenge, she remains unknowing of who she is and what her abilities are. It makes sense, then, that Flamecaster is the first volume in a four-part series. Other stories with cliffhanger endings typically plan for sequels, like Scott Westerfeld’s Uglies and J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books. There are also examples of stories that end on a cliffhanger but lack any sequel or follow-up. At the moment, George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire has not concluded and likely won’t conclude despite A Dance with Dragons having several important and necessary plot threads unresolved. As for which kind of ending is better…
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are wrap-ups, obviously.
There’s merit to cliffhangers, of course, as it’s thrilling and a twist in itself to have an ending that does not conclude the story. In this sense, cliffhangers promise more thrills and entertainment than a wrap-up; they tease a sequel. But, cliffhangers aren’t really endings. Sure, they’re endings, but not really. Wrap-ups conclude the story. An ending that actually ends the story is better, at least in my opinion. What is a story that doesn’t deliver on its main promise(s)? A disappointment.
There are exceptions to wrap-ups being “better,” of course, in the way of abstract stories whose themes revolve around a lack of resolution or rely heavily on audience interpretation. These are hit-or-miss; Mulholland Drive is a movie I consider silly and incoherent, but others enjoyed it and ‘got’ whatever it was about; such stories still technically deliver on the promises they set up, though their promises can be ambiguous to the point of incomprehensibility that the story, regardless of having a wrap-up ending, disappoints.
Endings in general tend to follow a significant conflict, typically a story’s most significant conflict. Cliffhangers tend to end in the midst of the conflict without their resolution (lending to its fame as a cliffhanger), whereas wrap-ups tend to have space following the resolution. I recall in Neil Gaiman’s MasterClass this space, particularly at the end of a story, was referred to as “cigarettes” in which characters react to all that happened, decompress, and consider what happens next. Cliffhangers can have “cigarettes” but still lack the concluding element that a wrap-up has (i.e., delivering on its main promise(s)). A good example of this is Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in which Cedric Diggory is murdered and Lord Voldemort returns; Harry still gets space to recount his experience alongside everyone else at Hogwarts while the villains are on the up and up. While “cigarettes” can occur in both, since they tend to be provided more often in wrap-ups it is another reason I prefer wrap-ups. On a tangential note, stories in general tend to feel better when such space is given following any conflict as opposed to there being perpetual conflict or no change in pacing.
Ironically, I lack a good way to end this blog post about endings. I suppose a final thing I want to mention is the sense of closure endings provide by implicitly or explicitly evoking something important at the beginning of a story. It’s nice to remember the ending is only just a piece of something bigger whose leadup can mean much more than it alone.
