Closing (can it be?) Thoughts on Endings

Outlining... hindsight... creating a loop...

Why do they put the sticker right over her face, and block out part of the title? Sticker-person having a bad day… or thoughtless book design? Or something to think about later?

Creating has a serendipitous quality. It has to. Along with qualities of grinding, exhaustion, and joy. (What would you add to these?)

Every so often we touch in on that foundational principle of writing: “pay attention.” And what that might mean.

The serendipity might pass right by. But it is there.

As you know, if you’re a regular reader of the Unschool (and if you’re new I’ll quickly fill you in), in my current novel-project I did something that I don’t usually do, and wrote my way through to what I’ll call a “skinny” ending. In between the opening, the inciting incident—that is, that turn of events that create a moving and dynamic story—and the end, it’s all a bit thin.

Pondering Endings

Then I read Black Woods Blue Sky, Eowyn Ivey’s latest, with its beautiful ending. I’ll be posting a close read of that novel soon. It’s not just the ending that’s noteworthy.

I also wrote a piece about multi-character intersection—which is what happens with more than one POV character at the point of crisis and climax.

When Multiple Characters' Stories Intersect

In the midst of all this, before I began working on this project, I’ve been studying Christian mystics.

I read disparate books simultaneously. I follow digressions, willingly and happily, and not to procrastinate. (I’ve had to learn: this is not procrastination.) Picking up a book, researching some half-question, allowing bits and pieces into my conscious thought, and the occasional deeper dive, is most often in response to some sub-conscious… urge.

It feels best not to describe it at all, but to just follow and do. At times it turns out to be nothing at all, to be red herring and dead end. But often, it leads to fruit. There’s a Christmas morning delight when such an urge connects with the work at hand. Serendipitous.

I found myself in the midst of a dense read, chapters into a book titled Julian of Norwich, Theologian, by Denys Turner. I’ve read a number of books about Julian, in preparation for creating a picturebook. Working on more than one project at a time adds its own quality: the stories and approaches and the wisps of thought begin to work together in ways that—again—I try not to question much.

But reading pages about St. Julian’s oft-quoted (and maybe mindlessly repeated) “All shall be well” (yes, it’s become a t-shirt thing) took a sudden corner in Turner’s book. I recognized that his words connect directly with how I’ve been trying to articulate this enigma of creating “end” in a story.