Good Endings Make Every Story Stronger—Including Sequels

Every Story Must End: Part Two

This is the second in a two-part series on endings. Find Part One here.
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In Part One of this two-part blog series, I argue that every story needs to have an ending that delivers emotional satisfaction, and that this is not the same as answering every question the story asks. I also argue that the end of your story inevitably shapes the story—how you build it, and how it is received. I used the season 5 finale of the CW show Supernatural to illustrate these concepts.

“The opposite of the happy ending is not actually the sad ending–the sad ending is
sometimes the happy ending. The opposite of the happy ending is actually the unsatisfying ending.” — Orson Scott Card

“That’s the dilemma for writers: reality is messy, but readers seek closure.” — Roy Peter Clark, Writing Tools

What if you don’t have a satisfying ending? What does that mean for your story? And what does “ending” mean for a story with a sequel?

Let’s get to it. We’ll start where every analysis of a story should start: with the story’s central question.

Your story’s Big Question

When we write, we need to ask ourselves, “To what does this story lead?” That’s your story’s Big Question. Anything you write after reaching that point doesn’t serve the story and in fact distracts from it.

Season One of Supernatural gives us the origin story of our two main characters, brothers Sam and Dean. How they became monster hunters (the death of their mother, and their father’s quest to punish the demon responsible) and what they hope to achieve (vengeance on the demon, with a little side of helping out those who don’t know how to protect themselves from monsters). Along the way they realize they’ve become part of something much bigger—a literal battle between heaven and hell.

By the end of Season Five, we have answered the Big Question: What is the reward of such an undertaking…and what the cost?

From a story perspective, why do we have Supernatural Season Six (sorry Charlie; I love you forever!)?

Everything that comes after “Swan Song” distracts us from the epic storyline that just concluded—and makes that storyline much less epic by contrast.

What is your story’s Big Question? You definitely need to get there. But be careful about going beyond it.

What if you don’t have a (true/good) ending?

What if you do keep going beyond the Big Question?

Everything you write continues to shape how your reader (assuming they keep reading; a big assumption) interprets the events of the story and the characters.

Sometimes these characters change beyond all recognition—like Crowley or the Ghostfacers from Supernatural. And what had been the emotional high point—the battle with Lucifer—becomes a footnote.

Is that what you want? Does that serve the story you’re trying to tell?

Most of the time, I argue, the answer is “no.”

What happens when you don’t give your story the ending the ending it needs and deserves?

The story gets flabby, that’s what. Characters lose their definition, takeaways and lessons get muddy, and your weary reader wonders, “OK, but what’s the point?”

But I love these characters!

As Supernatural moved past what was once a series finale, it occasionally struggled to find a raison d’etre. But a lot of us hung in there, because the show accomplished what any story needs to: get us to care about the characters.

I get wanting a beloved story to continue. When we get invested in characters, we want to know more about them. We want to know what happens next!

If you love the characters that much, and you want to continue the story, you need to give them a new quest. You need a new question that the continuation of their story will answer.

If you can’t find your way to a new quest, what you have after “The End” is a distraction.

The Lure of the Sequel

Maybe you were thinking of writing a sequel all along. Most often, though not always, you’ve made your sequel life easier if you’ve been planning to get there in the first place.

This is because each sequel needs to stand on its own two feet, as well as clearly relate to the books that come before and after. This is much trickier than writing one standalone book.

Think of a traditional weaver—holding all the threads to a complicated design in their hands. Once you introduce sequels, you have to hold, and manage, many more threads.

When you write a sequel, instead of one, you actually have two Big Questions: one for the individual book, and one for the series.

Give each component a true ending. That’s how you create the strongest story (micro and macro). Don’t keep dragging us behind the horse because you like the scenery.

Bottom Line

You may love your characters. Your audience may love them, too! But at a certain point, we need to know when to stop. What’s part of the story? What could become a new story? How are they related, and how does the sequel change the way we see what came before?

Leave everyone on a high note, wanting more…don’t drag them along until they slump off into the gray, barely remembering the characters and epic insights they loved of yore. Let us appreciate what we read…by ending it.

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Want to talk about how and where to end your story? A book structure intensive may be just the thing.

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