Good Story Endings: Happy or Sad, or Something Else?
By Vaughn Roycroft | August 19, 2019 |
I was recently discussing a novel’s ending with a writer friend. We agreed that, while not perfect, the author had pretty much nailed the ending. We felt satisfied. Its character arcs felt complete. We both found the ending moving and multidimensional, and it obviously left us thinking, hence the conversation. (If you’re curious, the book is Daisy Jones and the Six, by Taylor Jenkins Reid.)
During our conversation, I was seeking to refresh my memory about an element of the book and I stumbled on a review of it. A scathing review. From a reviewer who really seemed to hate the ending.
A few days prior to the Daisy Jones discussion, I’d seen an interview with the Russo Brothers—Joe and Anthony, who produced and directed Avengers: Endgame, along with a half-dozen other Marvel movies. The interview was hosted by Twitter, and as the brothers settled into their seats and the crowd applauded, Joe jokingly said, “Oh good. These are the nice people on Twitter.”
Russo’s joke was funny because a lot of fans on Twitter really seem to hate Endgame’s ending. A lot.
The two incidents got me thinking about endings. Of course they reminded me just how subjective and varied reactions to storytelling are bound to be. But they also caused me to examine what makes an ending satisfying to me. And how my taste and preferences inform my own endings. And beyond that, what we, as fiction writers, owe to readers (if anything).
No Real Ending
“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop telling the story.”—Frank Herbert
I’m not sure if it’s a series thing, and that I’m a series guy, but Herbert’s quote really resonates for me. I’m currently considering a change to where book one of my trilogy-in-progress ends. It wouldn’t change the events in the continuum of the story. But it very well could determine whether or not a future reader continues on to book two.
The fact that this trilogy is a prequel to my first trilogy makes Herbert’s quote all the clearer to me. Although both trilogies are centered around the lives of my protagonists, there are a million things I’d love to include outside of that focus in order to set up the ongoing tale of my story-world.
But I can see how this is true for stand-alone books as well. Whether an ending is happy or sad or something in between, stuff is going to happen after “The End.” The couple who finds love in an HEA romance is eventually going to face some strife. Characters who are devastated by the death of a protagonist are going to move beyond mourning and begin again without them. And so on.
“Since when,” he asked,
“Are the first line and the last line of any poem
Where the poem begins and ends.”
–Seamus Heaney
The concept of no real ending helps me to better understand my likes and dislikes. If story is not defined by the events of the plot, but by the changes that occur in the characters, I want endings to not just reveal but to illuminate those changes. I like to think of my endings as sort of a mirror-flip of the opening. There is an aspect (or several) to every story’s opening that draws me in as a reader. I want storytellers to select the moment that spotlights how those same aspects have been forever altered for the characters by what they’ve endured.
The concept also reminds me that I don’t like endings that are just too darn tidy. It’s okay to leave me wondering, at least about some things. In fact, I want to wonder. Life is full of unsolvable mysteries. And it’s just a snapshot in the continuum, after all.
And with that mirror-flip concept in mind, I can see that I don’t like unearned happy endings. If the change we see in the character(s) feels at all arbitrary, or like nothing was sacrificed but much was gained, I’m left dissatisfied.
Putting all of that together makes me sound like a pretty tough customer when it comes to endings. But I actually consider myself pretty open to the possibilities and fairly easy to please.
You-Know-What and Taxes
When it comes to my own endings, I’ve discovered I’m a little less open to possibilities. Which makes me worry. My endings tend to feature death. And, let’s face it, even though death is one of Franklin’s two unavoidable aspects of life, not everyone likes it when characters die.
I didn’t always worry. Believe it or not, during my first draft of my first trilogy I gave little thought to how readers might react to the deaths I was writing. They just seemed so natural, so unavoidable. I’ll never forget something my very first hired editor—WU’s own Cathy Yardley—said to me at the front end of our phone conference after she finished reading book three of my first trilogy. “Wow, you’re brave, killing off all of these characters.” She went on to ask if I’d considered how many readers would be upset by it. I hadn’t, really.
And so now, I worry. Worrying is particularly silly for me. Because I have come to the conclusion that the deaths I’ve written are as unavoidable as yours and mine. And taxes.
Since Cathy’s warning I’ve been paying a little more attention. Turns out she’s right (as usual): a LOT of folks really hate it when characters die. Which is why the Russo Brothers interview I mention at the top really grabbed my attention. Joe addresses the issue fairly early on, when he says:
“We believe that the essential nature of being a hero is sacrifice. Not everyone loves to see their favorite characters go away. But for us, it’s a teachable moment, about what it costs to be a hero—what it means to be willing to fight for what you believe in. There can still be happy endings, even through loss.”
Bad Things Happen, But…
“Hey, bad things happen, right? Otherwise there wouldn’t be a story.”—Joe Russo
I guess I’ve always been a “bad things happen” sort of writer. I don’t think it’s so much that I’m drawn to tragedy. But as I say, my endings have always included sad aspects. Mostly death, but also separations, unfulfilled potential, and the realization of lost opportunities and of tarnished dreams.
I know. Some of you are thinking, “I’ll bet he’s a hoot at parties, too.”
“I have an instinctual distrust of conventional happy endings.”—George R.R. Martin
Seriously, in the examination of my preferences and my own endings, I can see that it’s not about whether they’re happy or sad. Unlike George, I don’t distrust, nor even dislike, happy endings.
In fact, I honestly think my favorite endings are a mixture of both. A lot of you probably know I like a good cathartic cry (wrote about it here). But I also love laughter. My heart glows in found love, in renewed friendship, in earned resolve. And in the promise of hope offered. God, yes to that.
In other words, I want it all, darn it. For me, the best endings are a weave of happiness and sadness.
In my endings, I aspire to provide the renewal of hope through redemption; the restoration of honor through sacrifice; the bolstering of friendship and altruism through earned humility. Along with the deep understanding that poignant losses help to shape who we are as we move forward carrying them.
I want my endings to speak to the immortal nature of kindness—to attest to the lasting impact each of us can have on others, and thereby on the world.
I want my endings to feel meaningful and inevitable—even the character deaths.
Through my endings I aspire to affirm faith–my own and my readers’–that love is indeed the true essence of humanity; that once it’s truly and unselfishly given it can never really be lost, even in death.
Is that so much to ask?
Do you prefer happy or sad endings? Is there something in between? What do you hope to achieve with your endings? It’s a helluva question to end on, isn’t it?
[Image is: The End of Salton City, by Matthew Dillon @ Flickr]
Vaughn Roycroft’s (he/him) teacher gave him a copy of The Hobbit in the 6th grade, sparking a lifelong passion for reading and history. After college, life intervened, and Vaughn spent twenty years building a successful business. During those years, he and his wife built a getaway cottage near their favorite shoreline, in a fashion that would make the elves of Rivendell proud. After many milestone achievements, and with the mantra ‘life’s too short,’ they left their hectic lives in the business world, moved to their little cottage, and Vaughn finally returned to writing. Now he spends his days striving to finish his epic fantasy series.
I bet you love the ending of Lord of the Rings then too, don’t you? :)
It has the mix of sadness and hope, of life going and new life starting. – These types of endings are good, but not easy on the reader, and I think also not on the writer.
For my personal taste, I can handle some sadness in an ending, but I also need something hopeful. No grey, dreadful endings, please. I need the silver lining on the horizon, at least.
In my WIP, the ending first destroys the protagonist’s dream (or more precisely, he destroys it himself for the higher good), but gives hope for the world he is living in. And as a reward, in a short after-scene I hand him the possibility to go after his dream after all, but the proper way, without deceits and false goals. – I hope the last one is not too sugar-sweet, but it felt right when I wrote it. – Good luck with your trilogy! I would like to read it one day (but please don’t kill off ALL the lovable ones!).
“He drew in a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m back,’ he said.”
Hoo-boy, J. I think LotR’s ending is one of the most poignant in literature (no surprise, right?). He being Sam (the true hero of the story? That’s another worthy debate) is signifying so much. He’d said goodbye to his dearest friend, and parted ways with those who’d shared the journey with him. He’s signifying that life goes on. Rose has put his daughter on his lap. He’s deeply wounded and saddened, but he sees that he must carry on… In a world he sacrificed so much to save! How could he not, when presented with such love from his family? And it’s love he’s earned. Just lovely and thought-provoking for me–even as a kid, I was left thinking for days that sort of turned into years. No exaggeration.
I agree with you about needed some form of a silver lining. I think the proper balance should always include some form of hope, however it’s embodied. It sounds like you at least are delving the depths of true sacrifice, which–for me–is another powerful element in a good ending.
Thanks for another insightful comment and for your kind words. Ditto–I’d like to read yours one day, as well. Here’s to that day’s arrival!
Hey, V, thanks for this post, which offers so much to think about! Primarily I’m interested in the endings that support/reveal the completion of character arcs, probably because I love character-rich and character-driven tales. Though I prefer not to lose a beloved character, I know it’s sometimes the right choice for story; a character with a huge journey may not see the light until they’re about to, um, follow the light! And I also recognize that stories that end with the death of a beloved character can deliver a huge punch in a great way (e.g. Audrey Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife — my favorite novel– and Jojo Moyes’ Me Before You).
Ha! Had to laugh about “not seeing the light until they’re about to follow the light.” So true (and familiar)!
I agree about arc completion and the possibility of “gut-punches that are good ones.” It’s funny, but I had a beta-reader years ago, who was not a writer but was a huge genre reader. When she read book three of my first trilogy, she sent me an FB message that said something like, “I’m mad at you.” And she inferred she was mad about a character’s death. Which made me really nervous to read her full critique. Turns out she said, “I wanted so badly for ____’s death to be as badass as ____’s death. I mean, she really went down in a blaze of glory.”
She wasn’t mad about the deaths, per se. She just wanted to make sure they were worthy endings. In my mind, she henceforth became my kickass Skolani warrior beta-reader, lol.
I can’t believe I still haven’t read Time Traveler’s Wife. I think you’ve recommended it before, and it’s one of Mo’s favorites, as well. Duh. A no-brainer. I’m going to remedy that… Maybe on this trip.
Thanks for always helping me to see literature from new and unboxed perspectives, T!
I love a bittersweet ending or an ambiguous ending, and I’ll take a sad ending any day if it serves a purpose. I think if you as the writer find that the deaths you’ve written are unavoidable, it would be disingenuous to avoid them to try to please readers. Anyway, a number of TV shows are now killing people off fairly regularly, aren’t they? Perhaps training readers to accept that sort of thing. I think the key is to be true to the story and the character arcs.
As for happy endings? They’re fine in romantic comedies. But most of the time I want a book to feel resolved, whatever that means for that particular story. And occasionally, I don’t mind something that goes unresolved if that’s part of the point. After all, life is rather unresolved, isn’t it? Until you die. And even then…
Hey Erin. Huh–good thought about TV “training” folks. No doubt it’s had some effect. Makes me wonder. I wonder, too, about having the ability to “vent” about it online. Is that a good thing or a bad one? And I wonder if it makes it seem, to we storytellers, if the “mad as hell about the ending” thing isn’t made to seem bigger because of social media and online venting. All good food for thought.
“Resolved, whatever it means for that particular story.” Amen to that, Sister. And yes–nothing is ever truly resolved. Great points! Thanks for another insightful comment. Hope it’s as nice up there today as it is down here. Such blue skies! Should be a nice sunset. (There I go again, wishing for a happy ending :)
Anymore I cry at the drop of a hat when I get even a whiff of sadness, so I try to avoid those. I don’t know that I want happy endings all the time, but I do like fair endings. If I feel as if I’ve been emotionally manipulated at the end of a story and that character deaths or trauma doesn’t have a skin-tight purpose (other than for an emotional reaction), then I get angry. (Looking at you, Russo brothers.)
My first book had several character deaths that I’d cry through every time I read back through to edit. I would characterize the ending as wistful, really. The second book ends on a happier note, and really don’t have any significant deaths. Believe it or not, this worried me, because I don’t know if I just let my characters off the hook or if the story really didn’t require character blood on my hands. Even still, all is not perfect in the Realm and there are bittersweet issues to Hazel’s current stable state.
I’ve changed genres for my next book, and so I don’t have the open ended choices with the ending. There are reader expectations that I’ll need to follow, but it will be interesting to see how I tie up the subplots. I’m sure not all of them will end happily. After reflecting while writing this comment, I guess I favor 75% happy, 25% less-happy endings. :)
Hi Lara, I clearly see your point about death not being used for emotional manipulation. Good food for thought, thanks.
So funny that *not* having deaths also worried you. But it’s so us, isn’t it? We writers will find something to worry about, no matter the circumstance, lol.
I hear ya about meeting genre conventions, too. It’s probably why I’ll never quite fit into any genre. I just can’t seem to draw inside the lines. Which I’m sure makes me a tougher sell. Guess I might as well make my peace with it.
For me, receiving your insights is always 100% happy. Wishing for many 75% happy endings in your future. Thank you!
Vaughn, this is timely for me. I’ve been reworking and reworking and reworking my ending for my WIP. I had submitted and a rejection said the ending was “too downbeat for today’s market.” Yes, a main character bites the dust, but there is life ahead. Anyway, I was most curious about her “for today’s market” comment. Any one else had that reaction? Is the thinking that things are so bad right now that readers can only deal with happy, hopeful endings? Clearly, that’s not the case with streaming TV series. :-)
Hey Densie–Whoa, yes–“for today’s market” is one of those head-scratch comments that’s bound to stick with you. I’m really curious to hear if anyone else has heard this. As you say, dark endings seem as prevalent as ever, particularly in pop culture venues. Heck, even Marvel has gone down that road.
Wishing you the best with it! Stick with your gut. Fingers crossed for you, and thanks for weighing in.
Hi Vaughn. You make a valuable distinction between endings defined by plot versus those that are character-driven. I think that’s important. If a story is heavily plotted, it’s like a puzzle, as is true of the majority of mysteries. The ending must supply what’s still missing in terms of the puzzle. In work more character-centered, the ending needs to leave the reader with a sense of resolution rather than solution. The characters have been making their way in some direction, and sometimes it’s veiled and obscure, but in a direction. That’s where we need to end up: with a sense of characters having satisfactorily arrived, and having been revealed–but not necessarily in a happy place, or even a comfortable one.
Good post. Thank you.
Hey Barry–I really love your turn of phrase: “a sense of resolution rather than solution.” That’s a key aspect of the distinction you build on.
I definitely feel like I’ve “satisfactorily arrived” today, due to your insight and expansion here. Better still, this time it’s a happy place. Thanks much for offering it!
I love this assessment of what a good ending must be – at least for you. It has informed my dissatisfaction with some endings I’ve read recently and elucidated the reason for that dissatisfaction.
With you permission, I’m printing this post and inserting it in my fiction notebook. I will need to refer to it from time to time. And I’m a believer in hard copy. Electronic copy is simply too ephemeral for me.
Thank you, Vaughn.
I’m honored, Judith. Nothing pleases me more than to help another writer better understand their story preferences through a prism I’ve provided. And I’m with you: definitely a hard copy keeper. I had a huge file of emails I’d been keeping on an old email account that are now lost forever (seemingly). Ephemeral indeed!
Thanks much for your kind praise! Wishing you many happy endings ahead.
“Along with the deep understanding that poignant losses help to shape who we are as we move forward carrying them.” This is powerful. I’ve always loved endings that leave me thinking and that feel inevitable (so much easier said than done). I’m also with you on LOTR. It felt to me that it couldn’t have ended any other way. Of course it didn’t end, really, if you dove into the index timelines. But they only contributed, for me anyway, to the sense that the tale was continuing to unfold somewhere, somehow. Beautiful post. Awesome comments!!
Hey Susan! You’re absolutely right that creating a thought-provoking and inevitable ending is easier said than done. But as I always say, the first step is awareness. The better we understand what we leaves us with those feelings, the closer we are to providing them for others.
Thanks, as always, for your insight and very kind praise. I’m getting close to an ending you’re already familiar with, and I have a feeling it’s going to leave me thinking and feeling for some time. I’ll let you know. In the meantime, enjoy the last weeks of summer!
Vaughn, sometimes a ringing (or subtle but resonant) ending can change my mind about the whole of a book, in both directions: “good book, but the ending—fabulous!” or “decent book, but the ending, miserable.” And those feelings about the book’s close can exemplify the whole, whether justified or not.
I enjoy feeling a well-paced story’s arc, where for a longer (400-600 pages) work, you can feel a tale’s turn 100, or 75 or 50 pages from the end, and here I’m talking about the book’s mood, not where you can predict the specifics of an ending, but where the author has worked the book’s gravity so it pulls you and you feel the magnet.
I often enjoy works that conclude with a feeling of poignancy and human feeling, whether a sense of longing or loss or “we’ll carry on,” as long as the author has brought those developments to the page where they’re in rhythm with what’s preceded. When that feeling is combined with some cosmic humor, like some of Vonnegut’s work, it’s even better.
Hi Tom–what an excellent enhancement of the conversation you’ve provided here. You’re so right, that the ending can completely change how we feel about a book. I’ve had stumbles occur in the resolution and end of entire trilogies–a few that I was really loving. And after two and four-fifths books, I have this caveat. “I loved it, BUT…” It’s like Pee Wee Herman famously said, “Everyone I know has a big but. Come on, Simone–let’s talk about your big but.”
Excellent point “we’ll carry on,” and example of added cosmic humor found in Vonnegut. I very much appreciate you, my good sir. Any time you feel the need to talk about your big but, you know who to call. And if you can’t get through to Pee Wee, please don’t hesitate to consider me a fall-back.
You know how, in old movies, folks would raise their highball glass and say “Happy endings,” rather than cheers? I think we should revive it. Happy endings, Tom!
Happy endings back at you, maestro!
You made me remember some of my notes for the ending of Book 1 in my mainstream trilogy. John D. MacDonald wrote some of the endings I always remember. Here’s the notes:
“I want a Travis McGee ending for Book 1.
An ending where there are good things, and the worst is over – and yet Travis doesn’t get to settle down, happy, with one woman for the rest of his life.
MacDonald was careful not to get Travis pregnant. Only one woman bears his child, and she doesn’t do it where he knows about it: he doesn’t get that from her, being a father, knowing about immortality in a child, being survived by someone, something.
The endings never stopped me from reading the NEXT Travis McGee, wondering if THIS time he would get the HEA, be loved, be safe – that’s the reader’s desire for one we love – that he be happy – not the writer’s.
MacDonald wanted to keep on doing more of the same kind of book – he did many of them. They worked for me, at that stage. I wanted to be one of his women – even though they never got the guy – because he treated them very well, and because I WOULD be the one he got to keep. Nice, MacDonald.
But the hope stayed alive. And Travis got wounded by all these little losses, and bravely soldiered on, because, well, that’s what he is. And someone, somewhere (he even tries a couple of them) would finally get him and keep him until one of them died – of old age.
That’s the feeling I’m aiming for.”
Very insightful, Alicia, and what a wonderful role model you selected. Those are very special qualities in the endings of stories with a recurring character. You’ve made me wonder if MacDonald had any influence on a speculative fiction favorite of mine–Harry Dresden, of Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files. Seems so, whether it’s direct and intentional or not.
Thanks so much for sharing these illuminating and inspiring insights. Here’s to the literary heroes who break the trail and reveal our paths!
Life isn’t tidy and people are always a work in progress. For that reason, though I love the HEA implied in a romance, I have yet to write a book with a saccharin ending. To me the real HEA occurs when characters are happy despite of, and perhaps because of, the ongoing challenges.
I was just commenting on John’s preceding post to yours that this feels like the era of the anti-heroine to me. So many novels of psychological suspense, and they never conclude on a pure upnote.
Hi Jan! You’ve provided some excellent enhancement to the conversation here. “Happy despite of, and perhaps because of, the ongoing challenges.” That’s brilliant. And my kind of HEA. No unearned happiness with that caveat!
And I hadn’t really considered the anti-hero(ine) aspect of this whole thing. That’s another one that television seems to be pressing into the zeitgeist–Sopranos being the one that springs first to my mind. Talk about an ending! (And people really did, for a long time. And not just at the water-cooler.)
Thanks for your keen observations. Hope you guys are well. Miss seeing you more often! Happy Summer!
Miss you, too, V. Can’t wait until November, until I can catch up with you and a good number of others.
It’s a really tricky one – and I find that I get really aggravated when an author leaves me stranded… either tidying everything up far too much, or just leaving me hanging without bothering to bring a major plotpoint to any kind of conclusion.
So, I like to feel there is some sort of payoff for having devoted hours of my precious life reading the book – and I do very much dislike cliff-hangers, even on series – but the very best do have a poignant aspect. So there is a mixture of happiness and pain in the very best, I feel. Thank you for raising a really interesting subject that as a writer and committed reader occupies a great deal of my thinking time.
Hey Sarah, You’re delving some good additions here. Unresolved issues or secondary storylines is definitely annoying. Some make me wonder why the author bothered with them at all, if they just sort of drift off into space rather than contribute to the weave of the resolution.
And I agree that even series should end on at least the semblance of a completed arc. Books should not end with cliffhangers!
Thanks so much for such solid contributions to the conversation.
I can’t imagine writing an epic series without quite a number of character deaths. That’s life after all. GRRM is obviously a great example. Or Diana Gabaldon killing off a beloved character like Dougal or Murtagh. It makes the emotional impact and vividness of the series come to life even more. And we get to see how the protags respond.
I’m working on an epic alt history series myself with plans for one of the two main protags to die in the final or next to final installment.
I love satisfying endings. They don’t have to be happy, unless I’m reading romance where it’s expected.
Great post as always, Vaughan!
Hi Sheri! I must admit, even I was utterly shocked by Ned’s death. I clearly recall that I was home sick, lying on the couch, and damn near threw the book into the hearth. I kept thinking, “This is book one of a series! A damn fat one! And the patriarch of the main family is dead? Already?”
I can more clearly see what GRRM was up to. No one was safe. Talk about emotional impact and vivid realism! Gabaldon is a wonderful example of the emotional impact that can be achieved, as well.
Wishing you the best with your series, Sheri! Looking forward to reading your work. Thanks much for these insights.
Personally I think there’s a disproportionately large amount of killing people for emotional impact in modern fiction, and much of it in my opinion is just lazy writing.
In “Conflict and Suspense,” James Scott Bell teaches that “the stakes in an emotionally satisfying novel have to be death,” but he explains that it doesn’t have to be physical death: it can be emotional or professional death instead.
But for some reason, killing people seems to sell.
In my WIP, the protagonist tries very hard to prevent people’s deaths, and it costs her dearly. When in book 4 she’s forced to kill, it’s an emotional death I hope will affect the reader more strongly than her physical death would have.
Wishing you the best with it! Thanks for the reminder to avoid writerly laziness.
Wishing you the best with it! Thanks for the reminder to avoid writerly laziness.
For the most part, I hate HEA and arcs that resolve. I enjoyed Daisy Jones and the Six for the story of the band — and its ending was OK because it was told by the daughter when she grew up about the band members. I also enjoyed Where the Crawdads Sing but was left with the distinct thought that Delia Owen’s editor MUST have made her give readers the #MeToo movement ending! (No spoilers here). I prefer in my reading and writing to leave open unresolved endings that are not tied in a perfect pink bow. I like to leave things unresolved where I can but where a character has transformed, evolved or come to some realization – or even died — but not necessarily perfect. A character may have realized something, but it doesn’t mean they are HEA. Think Ian McEwan, Murakami, Salter, Hemingway, Jim Harrison and my favorite Elizabeth Strout or Ann Patchett.
Hey Luna, You came up with one of the key elements my friend and I did in regard to the Daisy ending. I’ve heard so much about Crawdads, and now you’ve gone and tipped it for me. Must read this book.
Good distinction on realization not necessarily meaning HEA. Great list of artists who deftly handle endings well. Thanks for adding to my TBR list, and for your insight!