how to end a creative writing story

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Last updated on Mar 08, 2024

How to End a Story: The 6 Ways All Stories End

When we first start to read books, we quickly understand that books have two types of ending: happy and sad. But as we develop our literary palate and read deeper, it soon becomes apparent that endings are somewhat more nuanced than that.

In the first part of this post, we will dive into the many types of endings that novelists have at their disposal — and reveal the impact they can have on the reader. In the second part, we'll give you some tried-and-true tips for writing an impactful ending for your own book.

The 6 types of story endings (with examples)

Let's dive into the most common types of story endings that you'll see over and over again in storytelling. Note that, as we provide some examples from novel endings, there will be... spoilers! 

1. Resolved Ending

Wrap it up and put a bow on it. A resolved ending answers all the questions and ties up any loose plot threads. There is nothing more to tell because the characters’ fates are clearly presented to the reader.

Example:  Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude provides a great example of a resolved ending. In his Nobel Prize-winning book, García Márquez intertwines the tale of the Buendia family and the small town where they live, from its creation until its destruction. 

Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.

With this ending, García Márquez effectively ends all hope of a sequel by destroying the entire town and killing off all the characters. Unlike a Deus Ex Machina ending, where everything is suddenly and abruptly resolved , this is an ending that fits with the themes and plot of this book. Though not exactly expected, it brings an appropriate closure to the Buendia family and the town of Macondo.

Why might you use a resolved ending? This sort of conclusion is common to standalone books — especially romance novels, which thrive on ‘happily ever afters’ — or the final installment in a series. 

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2. Unresolved Ending

This type of ending asks more questions than answers and, ideally, leaves the reader wanting to know how the story will continue. It lets them reflect on what the hero has been through and pushes them to imagine what is still to happen. There will be some resolution, but it will, most likely, pose questions at the end and leave some doors open.

Example: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince does exactly that. After years of confronting Voldemort, Harry finally knows the secret to bring him down once and for all. However, the road will only become more dangerous and will require more sacrifices than anybody thought. 

His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione. 

Like Harry, readers know that a final meeting between him and Voldemort is coming and that everything will change for him and his friends. As a stand-alone book, this ending would probably be unsatisfactory. But as the penultimate book in the series, it leaves the readers wanting more.

Why might you use an unresolved ending? Because it can create anticipation and excitement for what comes next, you may want to use an unresolved ending if you are writing a series of books . Who doesn’t love (and hate) a good cliffhanger?

3. Ambiguous Ending

An ambiguous ending leaves the reader wondering about the “what ifs.” Instead of directly stating what happens to the characters after the book ends, it allows the reader to speculate about what might come next — without establishing a right or wrong answer. Things don't feel quite unresolved , more just open to interpretation.

Example: The first installment of The Giver series, by Lois Lowry, uses this ending. The Giver focuses on Jonas, a teenager living in a colorless yet seemingly ideal society, and on the way he uses his newly assigned position as the Receiver of Memories to unravel the truth about his community and forge a new path for himself. 

Downward, downward, faster, faster. Suddenly he was aware with certainty and joy that below, ahead, they were waiting for him; and that they were waiting, too, for the baby. For the first time, he heard something that he knew to be music. He heard people singing. Behind him, across vast distances of space and time, from the place he had left, he thought he heard music too. But perhaps it was only an echo.

Readers will wonder what happens to Jonas once he finishes his journey and what happens to the town and people he left behind. There are three more companion books with more plot points , but the story centering on Jonas is finished. Readers will see him again, but only as a side character, and will neither find out how he rebuilt his life nor how his old community fared. There might be speculation, but an answer is never clearly given: that is left to the imagination.

When might you use an ambiguous ending? If you want your readers to reflect on the meaning of your book, then this is the ending for you. While a resolved ending may satisfy readers, it probably won’t give them much pause at all. However, by trying to unpick an ambiguous ending, they get closer to what you, as the author, are trying to say.

4. Unexpected Ending

If you have led your readers to believe that your book will end one way, but at the last possible moment, you add a plot twist that they didn’t see coming, you’ve got yourself an unexpected ending! For an author, this type of ending can be a thrill to write, but it must be handled with care. Handled poorly, it will frustrate and infuriate your reader.

An unexpected ending must be done so that, while surprising, still makes sense and brings a satisfactory conclusion.

Example: A popular novel that makes use of this ending is And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie , where she tells the tale of ten murders without an obvious culprit that took place in an isolated island mansion. [Spoilers coming!] The last lines of the novel read:

When the sea goes down, there will come from the mainland boats and men. And they will find ten dead bodies and an unsolved problem on Soldier Island. Signed: Lawrence Wargrave

The ways in which the murders occur let the reader suspect the guilt of just about every character — and then, in an epic twist, they all die, leaving the murders unexplained. It is not until the message in the bottle arrives that the true culprit is revealed, as one of the victims no less! The ending is satisfactory to the reader because it brings the plot to a close in a way that, though surprising, invites them to think back on how the murderer set things up for the remaining deaths, and ultimately makes sense.

Why might you use an unexpected ending? These ‘twist endings’ are the bread and butter of mystery novels . Just be aware that while fans of the genre will expect a twist — they won't want one that comes entirely out of nowhere. To execute a flawless unexpected ending, you must lay groundwork throughout your book so that the reader can reflect on the plot and go, “ah, but of course!”

5. Tied Ending

Much of storytelling is cyclical. Sometimes it’s a metaphorical return home, such as in The Hero’s Journey . In other cases, the cycle is quite literal — the story ends where it began.

Example: Erin Morgenstern uses this ending in her book The Night Circus , where she tells of a duel between two magicians that takes place within Le Cirque des Rêves , a traveling circus and, arguably, a character on its own. 

Widget takes a sip of his wine and puts his glass down on the table. He sits back in his chair and steadily return the stare at him. Taking his time as though he has all of it in the world, in the universe, from the days when tales meant more than they do now, but perhaps less than they will someday, he draws a breath that releases the tangled knot of words in his heart, and they fall from his lips effortlessly. ‘The circus arrives without warning.’

With what may be the most famous lines of the book, “The circus arrives without warning,” this novel closes the characters’ storylines the same way the book begins. In both cases, the words are used to start telling a story; in the beginning, it serves as an introduction to the book, the words filled with wonder and expectation. In the end, it serves as a resolution, the words filled with hope for those who remain. Additionally, Morgenstern later uses a few more pages to finish the second-person narrative of the reader’s own visit to the circus, effectively ending the novel with the same point of view that it began.

Why might you use a tied ending? More common in literary fiction, a tied ending can help give you a sense of direction when writing your book — after all, you are ending the same way you began. But don’t think that this makes writing your ending easier. On the contrary, it is up to you to give greater depth to those repeated actions and events so that, by the end, they have a completely different feel.

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6. Expanded Ending

Also known as an epilogue , this type of ending describes what happens to the world of the story afterward in a way that hints at the characters' fates at some point in the future.

Example: In Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief , Death himself narrates the story of a young girl living in Nazi Germany. In his four-part epilogue, Zusak gives the reader an insight into what happened to Liesel after the bombing, her adult life, and even her death. 

All I was able to do was turn to Liesel Meminger and tell her the only truth I truly know. I said to the book thief and I say it now to you. *** A LAST NOTE FROM YOUR NARRATOR*** I am hunted by humans.

Instead of going into great detail, Zusak uses short chapters that feel more like sneak peeks into her life. Additionally, it serves the purpose of joining Liesel, the main character, with the narrator, Death, and allowing them to converse on more equal terms.

Why might you use an expanded ending? If you need to tie up loose ends but could not do it within the actual story, then this is the ending for you. However, it should not replace a traditional ending or be used to compensate for a weak ending. Instead, it should give further insight into the characters and give a resolution to the readers.

Now that you understand what kind of endings there are, let’s start thinking about how to create them for yourself.

How to end a story in 7 steps

To help you create a story ending that is unexpected and satisfying, we've turned to the professional editors on Reedsy and asked for their top tips on wrapping up your book. 

How to end a story:

• Find your ending in the beginning
• Completion goes hand-in-hand with hope
• Keep things fresh
• Make sure it’s really finished
• Last impressions matter
• Come full circle
• Leave some things unsaid

1. Find your ending in the beginning

While your story may contain several different threads and subplots, all books are going to have a central question that’s raised by the opener. Who killed the boss? Will our star-crossed lovers end up together? Can a rag-tag group of heroes really save the world? Is there meaning to a middle-class existence? Can this family’s relationship be saved?

Your central question is the driving force of what will happen in the plot, so make sure you settle it by the time the book ends. Even if your hero's story continues in a sequel, you’ll want each book to have a central question and a resolution for them to feel complete.

2. Completion goes hand-in-hand with hope

Literary agent Estelle Laure explains that a great ending is one that gives the reader both a feeling of completion and hope.

“You have to assume the character has gone through hell, so let them see something beautiful about the world that allows them to take a breath and step into the next adventure. Even your ending should leave your reader dying for more. They should close the book with a sigh, and that’s the best way I know how to get there. This is, after all, a cruel but wondrous life.”

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3. Keep things fresh

This is good advice for every stage of writing, but perhaps nowhere is it more important than the ending. While there are certain genres where a type of ending is expected (romances should end with a happily ever after, mysteries with identifying the killer), you don’t want people to be able to see everything coming from miles off. So even if the payoff from the big resolution is expected, as the writer, you’ll want to think hard to find ways to keep things fresh and interesting. To achieve this, try to dig deeper than your first impulse because chances are, that’s also going to be your audience’s first impulse as well. You don’t necessarily need to subvert that expectation, but it will give you some hints as to what most people think will happen.

4. Make sure it’s really finished

To create a satisfying ending, close your book with purpose.

As Publishing Director of Endeavor Media, Jasmin Kirkbride’s biggest tip is to make sure you follow the rule of Chekhov’s Gun.  

“Every subplot and all the different strands of your main plot should reach satisfying, clear conclusions. If they are meant to be left ambiguously, ensure your reader knows this, and create something out of that uncertainty.”

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5. Last impressions matter

In some ways, the final line of a story is even more important than the first one. It’s the last impression you’ll make in your reader’s mind, and the final takeaway of the whole book. Hone in on what kind of emotions you’d like your reader to feel as they close the book, and ask yourself what kind of image or concluding thought would best convey that. Not sure what that should be? Try looking at your book’s theme! Often the final image is the summation of everything your theme has been building.

6. Come full circle

Editor Jenn Bailey says that a good ending brings the book’s internal and external story arcs to a rational conclusion.

“You need to come full circle. You need to end where you began. You need to take the truth your main character believed in at the beginning of the story and expose it as the lie that it is by the end. In your ending, the main character doesn’t have to get what they want, but they do have to get what they need.”

For more about character arcs, check out this post !

7. Leave some things unsaid

There’s a balance to endings — too little resolution and your book will feel rushed and unsatisfying, but too much and the denouement starts to drag. In general, though, you want to keep things brief, especially if you want room for an epilogue. It’s okay to trust your readers to reach some conclusions on their own, rather than spending whole chapters making sure every question you raised is answered. But, if do you really want everything tied off, consider moving the resolution of some of your subplots to just before the climax. This avoids jamming everything into the last five pages, allowing your subplots space to breathe.

As we have seen, there are many methods for ending stories! However you decide to finish your novel, there is one thing that you should always keep in mind: take account of the story that came before and give it the ending that it needs, not the one you think readers want, and it will be satisfactory for all.

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100 Ways to End a Story (with examples)

But where do you stop? Which sentences are the last sentences?

In this post, we’ll look at 100 ending lines from a diverse group of authors, both novelists and short story writers. We’ll identify how different types of endings contribute to a story. And, ultimately, we’ll determine how the author crafts a sense of satisfaction in their closing phrases.

After collecting many, many endings, the following categories emerged:

Cliffhanger

Normally, writers think of using a cliffhanger at the end of a chapter. But they absolutely can be used at the end of a story or book, for a few reasons:

• Pique the reader’s interest for the next book in the series
• Uses the “in media res” technique to go out on a high point, rather than dribble to a conclusion
• Extend the reader’s imagination beyond the story, so they finish hungry for more, and curious about the future of the storyline. It keeps the story alive, rather than closing it off.

“Lie back, Michael, my sweet.” She nodded briskly at Pauline. “If you’ll secure the strap, Nurse Shepherd, then I think we can begin.”

— Ian McEwan, “Pornography”

“I turned and looked past the neighborhood kids — my playmates — at the two men, the strangers. They were lean and seedy, unshaven, slouching behind the brims of their hats. One of them was chewing a toothpick. I caught their eyes: they’d seen it too.

I threw the first stone.”

— T. C. Boyle, “Rara Avis”

“Then his father walks toward the door stooping slightly and B stands aside to give him room to move. Tomorrow we’ll leave, tomorrow we’ll go back to Mexico City, thinks B joyfully. And then the fight begins.”

– Roberto Bolano, “Last Evenings on Earth”

Whatever you’re ending on, it’s something you want to emphasize, right? So heighten that emphasis with repetition.

Here’s an exercise: take all the examples below and try rewriting them without any repetition. Just say the key word once. Doesn’t have the same ring, does it? In fact, it makes it seem like the middle of the story, just another unremarkable line.

It takes two or three repetitions before there’s a finality to it, like a bell tolling for the conclusion of the story.

“His feet are light and nimble. He never sleeps. He says that he will never die. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.”

— Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian

“Big flakes not falling in orderly rows, a dervishing mob that swirls, lifts, goes limp, noiselessly spatters the glass. Snow obscuring the usual view greeting me when I’m up at crazy hours to relieve an old man’s panicked kidneys or just up, up and wondering why, staring at blank, black windows of a hulking building that mirrors the twenty-story bulk of ours, up prowling instead of asleep in the peace. I hope you’re still enjoying, peace I wish upon the entire world, peace I should know better by now than to look for through a window, the peace I listen for beside you in the whispering of our tangled breaths.”

— John Edgar Wideman, “Microstories”

“I imagined the story of a girl made human. I imagined Tallie’s grave, forsaken and remote. I imagined banishing forever those sentiments that she chastened and refined. I imagined everyone I knew sick to the point of death. I imagined a creature even more slow-hearted than myself. I imagined continuing to write in this ledger, here; as though that were life; as though life were not elsewhere.”

— Jim Shepard, “The World to Come”

“Sometimes all humanity strikes me as lovely. I just want to reach out and stroke someone, and say, ‘There, there, it’s all right honey. There, there, there.’”

— Sandra Cisneros, “Never Marry a Mexican”

“That would be the man we’d spare. That would be the man who’d drop to his knees in the mud and, in the cloud of gun smoke, raise his hands in surrender. That would be the man who’d tell us who he was, where he’d come from and why.”

— Will Mackin, “Crossing the River No Name”

“In the desert, in the lightning, in his crumbling duplex, in the field, in the many rooms of night, Wild Turkey wakes up, he wakes up, he wakes up.”

— Arna Bontemps Hemenway “The Fugue”

“Then sometimes I get up and don my robe and go out into our quiet neighborhood looking for a magic thread, a magic sword, a magic horse.”

— Denis Johnson, “The Largesse of the Sea Maiden”

“Your time’s not up. Your time’s not even close to being up.”

— David Means, “The Chair “

Sense of Sound

Good writers understand that sensory details are the lifeblood of fiction. And just as images are crucial ways to end a story (that’s the next section), you can also use sound as a way to dial up or dial down the end of your story.

A crescendo ends a story well because it makes the story’s end feel climatic. While a decrescendo eases you out of the story, giving a sense of closure to the reader. 

If you look at the examples below, especially Jones and Bausch, you see how they use sound as a stand-in for a character — a deceased mother’s footsteps echoing through time, a wife’s domestic duties that make the husband feel estranged from her.

So sound can often a way to wrestle with complex character conflicts.

“And even when the teacher turns me toward the classrooms and I hear what must be the singing and talking of all the children in the world, I can still hear my mother’s footsteps above it all.”

— Edward P. Jones, “The First Day”

“The mastiff’s howl tears through the estate, setting off the usual thousand and twelve strange little circuses that disrupt the science of slavery.”

— Patrick Chamoiseau, “The Old Man Slave and the Mastiff”

“A long silence and then, slowly, applause, soft at first, then waves of it, which on this old recording came across like a pounding rain. I was shivering. There was no question we were under water.”

— Daniel Alarcón, “The Bridge”

“She heard the barking of an old dog that was chained to the sycamore tree. The spurs of a cavalry officer clanged as he walked across the porch. There was the hum of bees, the musky odor of pinks filled the air.”

— Kate Chopin, The Awakening

“He shut his eyes. Listened to the small sounds she made in the kitchen, arranging her flowers, running the tap. Mary, he had said. But he could not imagine what he might have found to say if his voice had reached her.”

— Richard Bausch, “Aren’t You Happy for Me?”

Descriptions

When you end a story, you’re helping the reader transition from the world of the story back into the real world. Sometimes that transition is easier if the last lines of the story don’t deal with the main characters, or plot, or themes, but instead talk about the universe of the story.

Namely: description. Try to describe a particular thing in the story which resonates with the main themes of your story. If you’re writing about father/son relationships, then end on the description of your character seeing a father walk with his son.

If you have a character sacrificing everything in the hopes of a big payday, then show that same idea in the animal world, for instance, pelicans divebombing for fish, like the Taylor Antrim example below. 

“They’ve forgotten, or left on purpose, a few things they don’t need, things I hold on to. Pictures the girls drew, shells they picked up at the beach, the last drops of a perfumed shower gel. Shopping lists in the faint, small script that the mother used, on other sheets of paper, to write all about us.”

— Jhumpa Lahiri, “The Boundary”

“His eyes went upward, looking again for some civilizing sign — better yet, for the rectangular peak of his building, like the needle of a compass, the darkness down here, the shadow of his life up there. Friedrich and Lana resting up for tomorrow. Paulette waiting for him posed on all fours in bed. They were trying. He was trying. But above him there was just sky and trees in all directions.”

— David Gilbert, “The Sightseers”

“And in the morning when the sun came up and the colors of the hill and its valley accelerated from gray and brown to red and green to white, the company agent gathered stones for his family and they breakfasted on snow.”

— Jim Crace, “The Prospect from Silver Hills”

“Boom-splash. The pelicans take these kamikaze plunges into the water. The way they hit, not one should survive — but of course they all do. They come up with their beaks full of fish.”

— Taylor Antrim, “Pilgrim Life”

Unspoken Dialogue

Unspoken Dialogue is very similar to a cliffhanger. While a cliffhanger refuses to resolve plot , this Unspoken Dialogue technique refuses to resolve the dialogue .

There’s tension when a character wants to say something, but doesn’t.

If you’re trying to learn how to write good dialogue, it’s always important to remember that characters don’t often say exactly what they’re thinking, or even what they want to say.

Why does this work to conclude a story? Well, it highlights the weakness of the character, how they are not doing what they want to be doing. They are holding back, and perhaps they will regret it later. 

“I wanted to say she’d lied to us all, she’d faked it about the dog, as if it mattered whether the animal spoke, as if love were about the truth, as if he would love her less — and not more — for pretending to talk to a dog.”

— Francine Prose, “Talking Dog”

“Tell more, more, I want to say to Eduardo but do not say because he seems ready to leave. Tell me about Garcilaso and about how things went well for him.”

— Joseph O’Neill, “The Sinking of the Houston”

“They are always very interested to hear that you don’t read music. Once, you almost said— to a sneaky fellow from the Daily News, who was inquiring— you almost turned to him and said Motherfucker I AM music. But a lady does not speak like that, however, and so you did not.”

— Zadie Smith, “Crazy They Call Me”

“She begins to scream, her face turning even redder, you cannot hear or understand what she is saying but you know she hates your father, hates you, hates many, many people. You want to help your father, the man who has only recently come back into your life, clean-shaven and speaking of God, you want to run toward him and defend him and protect him, but now he is holding out his hand to the man again, he has taken off his hat and is holding it out toward the man. The woman is now silent. The man takes the hat, a brand-new fedora with a feather, and puts it on his head. And looks at you, as if for the first time.”

— Justin Bigos, “Fingerprints”

Asking Questions

A question is one of the most popular ways to end a story (look at all the examples below!). I could even add more quite easily, like the question to conclude Margaret Atwood’s book, “Handmaid’s Tale”: “Are there any questions?”

But if you use this technique, I would recommend following these three guidelines:

• Must not have an easy answer
• Must resonate with the main themes of your book
• Must strike an emotional chord (look at the Russel Banks example). 

“But why are you invested in other people’s stories? You too must be unable to fill in the gaps. Can’t you be satisfied with your own dreams?”

— Antonio Tabucchi, “A Riddle”

“And who would she tell her stories to while he was gone? Who would listen?”

— Russel Banks, “My Mother’s Memoirs, My Father’s Lie, and Other True Stories”

“Then in the space of a wet blink, the gap between the trees would close and the mown grass disappear, a violent indigo cloud would cover the sun and history, gross history, daily history, would forget. Is this how it would be?”

— Julian Barnes, “Evermore”

“I imagined John-Jin’s girder underneath me. I wondered, in my rage, if you took that one piece away, would everything fall?”

— Rose Tremain, “John-Jin”

If a blind man could play basketball, surely we…If he had known Doc’s story would it have saved them? He hears himself saying the words. The ball arches from Doc’s fingertips, the miracle of it sinking. Would she have believed any of it?”

— John Edgar Wideman, “Doc’s Story”

“Safer and better to have no freedom, maybe, but no, you wouldn’t say that. The humming stopped when he flicked the light switch by the door. No you wouldn’t say that, would you? In the dark of the hall he could not see his way; he went toward the vague light of the front window with one hand on the wall. No you wouldn’t but what would you say?”

— Madison Smartt Bell, “Witness”

“Who was it that thought up that idea, the idea that had made today better than yesterday? Who loved him enough to think that up? Who loved him more than anyone else in the world loved him?

— George Saunders, “Puppy”

“Where was she now, this Clara? What had become of her, this ardent, hopeful girl in her white dress, surrounded by her family, godparents, friends, that her Bible should end up in a Goodwill bin? Even if she no longer read it, or believed it, she wouldn’t have thrown it away, would she? Had something happened? Ah, girl, where were you?”

— Tobias Wolff, “Bible”

“He reached for the telephone and dialed his home number. ‘Rhona,’ he said in the quaking receiver. ‘Would you like to see the juvenile tuataras? The babies?’”

— Barbara Anderson, “Tuataras”

“But for the other man, who would be watching the night fall around the orange halo of the street lamps with neither longing nor dread, what did the future offer but the comfort of knowing that he would, when it was time for his daughter to carry out her plan of revenge, cooperate with a gentle willingness?”

— Yiyun Li, “A Man Like Him”

You can’t write good fiction without making your characters feel things (and your reader feel things). So here, we see authors ending stories by showing the final arc of their character’s emotions.

Some of these characters have emotional epiphanies, feeling something for the first time. Others have felt it all along but perhaps only now have been able to admit it to themselves. 

But if character arc and character change are essential for stories, it makes sense that their emotional journey would conclude the narrative.

“Even so, I sat there gazing up at the granite outcrops of Spruce Clove streaked in evening gold, I had an almost overpowering sense of being looked at myself, stared at in uncomprehending astonishment by some wild creature standing in the doorway.”

— James Lasdun, “Oh Death”

“I stand here shameless in ways he has never seen me. I am free, afloat, watching somebody else.”

— Bharati Mukherjee, “A Wife’s Story”

“She has done an outrageous thing, but she doesn’t feel guilty. She feels light and peaceful and filled with charity and temporarily without a name.”

— Margaret Atwood, “Hairball”

Paul Harding, who won the Pulitzer Prize for “Tinkers,” said that contrast is the essential technique of music, painting, and storytelling. 

Below, we see contrasts between:

• chill cats and stressed-out humans
• the busyness of day with the solitude of night
• the flowers of love with the chants for the dead. 

When you contrast something, you throw it into higher relief. A happy person doesn’t seem exceptionally happy until you see her side by side with a depressed person.

Contrast offers that extra emphasis — much like repetition — to make the reader feel satisfied that this ending resolves the story.

“She hears a distant siren, the wind in the trees, the bass beat from a passing car. Please, she thinks. Please. She is about to go inside for a flashlight when she hears the familiar bell and then sees the cat slinking up from the dark woods, her manner cool and unaffected.”

— Jill McCorkle, “Magic Words”

“Susanne sat on the couch, surrounded by her family while out in the night, partner to the extraordinary, Roy held a shovel made for digging deeper in the dirt.”

— Samantha Hunt, “The Yellow”

“By day she entertained a constant stream of visitors. At night her father kept vigil beside her bed.”

— Jennifer Haigh, “Paramour”

“Violins and lit candles revolved in the sky. Leo ran forward with flowers outthrust. Around the corner, Salzman, leaning against a wall, chanted prayers for the dead.”

— Bernard Malamud, “The Magic Barrel”

Marcel Proust’s memories brought back by the taste of a madeleine are probably the most famous memories in literature, but stories have always used memory to make readers nostalgic, evoke the senses, and make us feel the bite of time.

When you end a story with memory, it ties the whole story together — past is united with the present.

In some ways, ending a story with a memory is the opposite of a cliffhanger — memory looks at the past, while a cliffhanger anticipates the future.

Memory allows the writer to skip around in time to find the perfect character moment to end the story — which could be much, much earlier in their life, or only a few years back, or only last week.

Perhaps in the character’s current life, there’s no event that perfectly captures the emotion you’re going for, so mine the past for it. 

“I no longer remembered the day we married. Only the day I knew we would, those moments with my heart warm and rapt, the silent promise of the frozen world, the elm chafing in its coat of ice.”

— Karen Brown, “Galatea”

“…She will be secretly glad, relieved that time is passing, that Paris is again becoming nothing more than a word she might see on the cover of a glossy magazine or on a cable travel channel, certainly not a place where she once spent a few breaths of her life, and she will hardly remember the way the Seine sliced the city in half, a radiant curving knife, merciless and perfect.”

— Victoria Lancelotta, “The Anniversary Trip”

“He remembers waking up the morning after they bought the car, seeing it, there in the drive, in the sun, gleaming.”

— Raymond Carver, “Are These Actual Miles”

“Who will remember?”

— Alex Rose, “Ostracon”

“She will see the garden that day and the tears shining in her sister’s large blue eyes and remember her unanswered cry for help.”

— Sheila Kohler, “Magic Man”

“And as for the scar, I’m glad it is not on Nyamekye. Any time I see it I only recall one afternoon when I sat with my chin in my breast before a Mallam came, and after a Mallam went out.”

— Ama Ata Aidoo, “A Gift from Somewhere”

The Epiphany

The epiphany ending is the classic story ending. After everything the character has gone through, what have they learned?

This is the chance to show that the journey has not been in vain, that your characters have changed and learned and grown because of this journey. 

Epiphanies are particularly useful for short stories, rather than novels, because short stories have less runway for plot. So you can’t have a huge murder or birth or world catastrophe solved at the end of a short story (the way most novels do), but you can show the character realizing something about themselves, others, or the world. 

“He closed the door carefully, not slamming it. Clea and I waited an appropriate interval, then turned and clung to each other in a kind of rapture. Understanding, abruptly and at last, just what it takes to be a King. How much, in the end it actually costs.”

— Jonathan Lethem, “The King of Sentences”

“He was shot five or six times, but being such a big man and such a strong man, he lived long enough to recognize the crack of the guns and know that he was dead.”

— Nathan Englander, “The Twenty-Seventh Man”

“Years later, as an adult, I realized that what my little sister had confided to me in a quiet voice in the wind cave was indeed true. Alice really does exist in the world. The March hare, the Mad Hatter, the Cheshire Cat— they all really exist.”

— Haruki Murakami, “The Wind Cave”

“— How d’you like my lion? Isn’t he beautiful? He’s made by a Zimbabwean artist, I think the name’s Dube.

— But the foolish interruption becomes revelation. Dumile, in his gaze — distant, lingering, speechless this time — reveals what has overwhelmed them. In this room. The space, the expensive antique chandelier, the consciously simple choice of reed blinds, the carved lion: all are on the same level of impact phenomena undifferentiated, undecipherable. Only the food that fed their hunger was real.”

— Nadine Gordimer, “Comrades”

“Sarah looked at him with an intent, halted expression, as though she were listening to a dialogue no one present was engaged in. Finally she said, “There are robbers. Everything has changed.”

— Joy Williams, “The Farm”

“And that was it. Somehow it didn’t really matter, finding out. Two years earlier, it would have changed my life. But on that day, I suppose the only thing I felt was some small measure of contentment for her: that he had, indeed, come back for her, just like she always said he would. They were different after all, destined to be together. I thanked Allen for bringing her things, watched him ride away on his motorcycle, and went inside to have dinner with my father.”

— Jess Walter, “Mr. Voice”

“And then, as if he had forgotten that she had already moved on to other things, as if we were still sitting across from each other, deep in one of our conversations without beginning, middle, or end, Room wrote that the last thing that had surprised her was that when Ershadi is lying in the grave he’s dug and his eyes finally drift closed and the screen goes black, it isn’t really black at all. If you look closely, you can see the rain falling.”

— Nicole Krauss, “Seeing Ershadi”

“‘No problem,’ the waitress sang, ‘no problem at all,’ replacing the girl’s fork, bending to snatch the soiled one off the floor. Smiling hard but not making eye contact with anyone. When she retreated leaving Richard alone with his son and the crying girl, it occurred to him, with the delayed logic of a dream, that the waitress must have thought he was the bad guy in all this.”

– Emma Cline, “Northeast Regional”

“But I remember you. I remember when we were so close that people couldn’t tell us apart. I remember your parents’ phone number, your neatly folded cutoffs and your constant fear of not being special. I remember when you started claiming that fictive characters are way better than friends, since they are less annoying, more interesting and never die. You stopped returning my calls. When I needed you the most you were nowhere to be found and when I died you started seeing me everywhere. On sidewalks, in shop windows, on balconies. So you decided to write my story. You dress me in cutoffs. You force extreme amounts of apple juice into me. You retell the most painful week of my life as it were a never-ending bachelor party. And it is not until the end. About. Here. That you realize what you’ve done. I’m not bitter, Miro. I’m just dead.”

— Jonas Hassen Khemiri, “As You Would Have Told It to Me (Sort Of) If We Had Known Each other Before You Died”

“It took some time for me to understand that Elida’s body had not been satiated on mine, that she wasn’t purring because she swallowed my heart.”

— Louise Erdrich, “The Big Cat”

“I used to think that all my emotions belonged in the past, to history, but I know that I yearn for the future just like everyone else. Even as life draws to close, I realize that I have never understood myself completely.

But now it certainly is too late to do more, to be more, in this lifetime.”

— Zhang Jie, “An Unfinished Record”

I am born at noon the next day. My mother tells me this is the first thing she did: she checked the clock. I am still attached to her when she looks. We are not yet two when she begins to keep track of me, the seconds I have been alive and then, after she cuts through the cord herself, cleaving my body from hers with a kitchen knife, the seconds I have been on my own.

This is what women do, she says.

By which she means she understands that one day I will leave her too. Lift off the ground, think myself beyond gravity.

—Aria Beth Sloss, “North”

The Unhappy Ending

The ending is one of your last chances to make the reader feel something. And while the happy ending is always a classic crowd-pleasing, I find that it’s often easier to make the reader feel sorrow.

Happiness is a tough sell, particularly when writing short stories. I think if you were going to survey 1000 short stories, a lot more would end sad than would end happy. Novels are probably the opposite — many more end happy than sad. 

It’s mainly because of the length. When you’re writing short, you don’t have the time to acheive happiness without it feeling cheesy. While in the space of a novel, the happy ending feels earned. 

“Now they were both dead, and the city was dirty and crumbling, and the man I was traveling with was sero-positive, and so was I. Mexico’s hopes seemed as dashed as mine, and all the goofy innocence of that first thrilling trip abroad had died, my boyhood hopes for love and romance faded, just as the blue in Kay’s lapis had lost its intensity year after year until it ended up as white and small as a blind eye. ”

— Edmund White, “Cinnamon Skin”

“Things are as they have always been. Whoever seeks a fixed point in the current of time and the seasons would do well to listen to the sounds of the night that never change. They come to us from out there.

— Amos Oz, “Where the Jackals Howl”

“She would be invisible, of course. No one would hear her. And nothing has happened, really that hasn’t happened before.”

— Margaret Atwood, “Wilderness Tips”

“There were women around Jesus when He died, the two Marys. They couldn’t do anything for Him. But neither could the men, who had all run away.”

— Robert Olen Butler, “Mr. Green”

“I think of the chimp, the one with the talking hands.

In the course of the experiment, that chimp had a baby. Imagine how her trainers must have thrilled when the mother, without prompting, began to sign to her newborn.

Baby, drink milk.

Baby, play ball.

And when the baby died, the mother stood over the body, her wrinkled hands moving with animal grace, forming again and again the words: Baby, come hug, Baby, come hug, fluent now in the language of grief.”

— Amy Hempel, In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson is Buried

“It was not a happy life, but it was all that was left to them, and they took it up without complaint, for they knew they were powerless against some Will infinitely stronger than their own.”

— Paul Laurence Dunbar, The Sport of the Gods

“What would burst forth? A monkey’s paw? A lady? A tiger?

But there was nothing at all.”

— Lorrie Monroe, “Referential”

The Waiting Ending

What does it mean when you have a character waiting at the end of a story? Well, they are expecting the future. But the reader can’t go to the future with them.

It signals a small break in the storyline: this current story has ended, but the future one has not begun. It’s like the character is about to step into narrative limbo.

A “waiting” ending is definitely a quiet ending. It takes advantage in a lull in the storyline to bow out and conclude. 

If you write a waiting ending, pay careful attention to subtext:

• Perhaps this character will be waiting a long time. 
• Perhaps they are the waiting type of character — a passive character. 
• Perhaps waiting signals a sad ending — what they wanted most didn’t arrive by the end

“I measured the passing of time by the progress of the fires in the distant north. My old man gave me daily updates, and I pretended to listen. Five hundred, a thousand, two thousand fires. After a month they had burned out, and I was still waiting.”

— Daniel Alarcón, “The Idiot President”

“He looked toward the eastern sky. It seemed he’d been running a week’s worth of nights, but he saw the stars hadn’t begun to pale. The first pink smudges on the far Ridgeline were a while away, perhaps hours. The night would linger long enough for what would come or not come. He waited.”

— Ron Rash, “Into the Gorge”

“The ice plant was watery-looking and fat, and at the edge of my vision I could see the tips of my father’s shoes. I was sixteen years old and waiting for the next thing he would tell me.”

— Ethan Canin, “The Year of Getting to Know Us”

“Wait here, wait here!” he cried and jumped up and began to run for help toward a cluster of light she saw in the distance ahead of him. “Help! Help!” he shouted, but his voice was thin, scarcely a thread of sound. The lights drifted farther away the faster he ran and his feet moved numbly as if they carried him nowhere. The tide of darkness seemed to sweep him back to her, postponing from moment to moment his entry into the world of guilt and sorrow.”

— Flannery O’Connor, “Everything that Rises Must Converge”

“Walking to the end of the hallway by the kitchen, he seated himself against the wall. He sat there quietly, waiting for Case to emerge.”

— Bradford Tice, “Missionaries”

“Joshua wondered what they would do now. The need he felt was like when he stepped on the sliver of glass, and his mother pulled at the skin with her tweezers, and pushed them inside, until she found the glass. It was like when she told him to get ready, to squeeze his father’s hand. Clenching his teeth, closing his eyes, waiting.”

— Mike Meginnis, “Navigators”

Figurative Language & Poetic Devices

Aristotle said that comparison of two unlike things was the essence of genius. If so, the writers below are all geniuses. 

Beauty has its own charm. The examples below use extended metaphors, multiple similes, and other examples of literary devices to cast a spell of beauty over the reader. 

And these comparisons are often symbolic of the characters and the events of the story (for instance, the birds in the Ann Beattie story).

“She pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net. Pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over her shoulder. So much of life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come and see.”

— Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

“Nettie lay there beside him, her breath blowing on his shoulder as they studied the stars far above the field — little pinpoint holes punched through the night sky like the needle holes around the tiny stitches in the quilting. Nettie. Nettie Slade. Her dress had self-covered buttons, hard like seed corn.”

— Bobbie Ann Mason, “Wish”

“Angela was remembering all this, and feeling such a strong surge of sorrowful loss, and at the same time she was studying with interest the miraculous rescue of St. Placidus from drowning, painted on the wall in the sacristy in San Miniato. St. Placidus was rolling fatalistically amid the blue waves of his pond while one of his comrades, endowed with special powers by St. Benedict, came walking across the water to save him. In the picture it looked like such a harmless little point, carved into the earth as neatly as a circle of stamped-out pastry, or a hole cut into the ice for fishing.”

— Tessa Hadley, “Cecilia Awakened”

“He looked at his wife, whom he loved, whom he looked forward to convincing, and felt as though he were diving headfirst into happiness. It was a circus act, a perilous one. Happiness was a narrow take. You had to make sure you cleared the lip.”

— Elizabeth McCracken, “Thunderstruck”

“In the flood of flame-colored light their flesh turned coral.”

— Helen Simpson, “Heavy Weather”

“Louisa sat, prayerfully numbering her days, like an uncloistered nun.”

— Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, “A New England Nun”

“When she turned back into the empty room she looked as though youth had touched her on the lips.”

— Edith Wharton, “The Angel at the Grave”

“In time, his breathing changed, and hers did. Calm sleep was now a missed breath — a small sound. They might have been two of the birds she so often thought of, flying separately between cliffs— birds whose movement, which might seem erratic, was always private, and so took them where they wanted to go.”

— Ann Beattie, “In Amalfi”

Brene Brown’s TED talk about vulnerability is one of the most watched TED talks of all time. Her thesis is simple: people respond to vulnerability.

It holds true in real life just as it does in fiction.

When a character keeps a secret, reveals a secret, or makes a confession, the reader feels closer to them. Even if we disagree with them, we feel like we know them. 

“The secret died with him, for Pavageau’s lips were ever sealed.”

— Alice Dunbar-Nelson, “The Stones of the Village”

“Very often I sold my blood to buy wine. Because I’d shared dirty needles with low companions, my blood was diseased. I can’t estimate how many people must have died from it. When I die myself, B.D. And Dundun, the angels of God I sneered at, will come to tally up my victims and tell me how many people I killed with my blood.”

— Denis Johnson, “Strangler Bob”

Powerful Dialogue

Here’s some advice on how to write a good dialogue ending:

• Pay attention to subtext . If any place in your story needs dialogue with a double meaning, it’s the ending. It should have a plain interpretation, but also resonate with some deeper issues of plot.
• Make sure it’s the protagonist who gets the final word . In almost all cases, it’s the protagonist or one of the main characters who speak last. A minor character wouldn’t make sense.

“Please come back inside mom! Please get out of the street!”

— Antonya Nelson, “Chapter Two”

“Darling, the angels have themselves a lifetime to come to us.”

— Edwidge Danticat, “Night Women”

“Nemecia held a wineglass up to the window and turned it. “See how clear?” Shards of light moved across her face.”

— Kirstin Valdez Quade, “Nemecia”

“But I had my eyes closed. I thought I’d keep them that way for a little longer. I thought it was something I ought to do.

‘Well?’ He said, ‘Are you looking?’

My eyes are still closed. I was in my house. I knew that. But I didn’t feel like I was inside anything.

‘It’s really something,’ I said.”

— Raymond Carver, “Cathedral”

“My dear,” replied Valentine, “has not the Count just told us that all human wisdom is contained in the words ‘Wait and hope!”

— Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

“There were lots of old people going around then with ideas in their heads that didn’t add up — though I suppose Old Annie had more than most. I recall her telling me another time that girl in the Home had a baby out of a big boil that burst on her stomach, and it was the size of a rat and had no life in it, but they put it in the oven and it puffed up the right size and baked to a good color and started to kick its legs (Ask an old woman to reminisce and you get the whole ragbag, is what you might be thinking by now.)

I told her that wasn’t possible, it must have been a dream.

‘Maybe so’ she said, agreeing with me for once. ‘I did used to have the terriblest dreams.’”

— Alice Munro, “A Wilderness Station”

A Character in Denial

The reader gets a sick sense of delight when final lines reveal something a character refuses to acknowledge.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible idea. Maybe it could make them happy. He found a mark on Miriam’s shimmering pale dress and followed it through the trees.”

— Sarah Kokernot, “M & L”

“His gut told him that his mother-in-law knew what had happened that day in the car. Come to think of it, she had never once mentioned the day of the accident to him. She had never even asked about it. His mother-in-law turned her cold gaze back to the plant. To put his crazy thoughts to rest, Oghi told himself that he just really liked plants. He could not think why that might be.”

— Hye-young Pyun, “Caring for Plants”

The Unknown

These final lines endear readers as characters reveal what remains mysterious:

“But as I write this it occurs to me that I don’t know where I ever got that idea. In fact, I have no memory of whether the desk arrived to me with the drawer locked. It’s possible that I unknowingly pushed in the cylindrical lock years ago, and that whatever is in there belongs to me.”

— Nicole Krauss, “From the Desk of Daniel Varsky”

“’Listen to me,’ he said, expelling all his breath with the words. Two ragged breaths later he tried again, but Jill moved her hand from his forehead to his mouth. ‘Help me,’ he said into her fingers. But the words were whispered, and she mistook them for a kiss and smiled.”

— Angela Pneuman, “Occupational Hazard”

“He knew he was at the beginning of something, though just then he couldn’t say exactly what.”

— Bret Anthony Johnston, “Encounters with Unexpected Animals”

“I do not know where this voyage I have begun will end. I do not know which direction I will take. I dropped the package on a park bench and started walking.”

— Bharati Mukherjee, “The Management of Grief”

If anywhere it’s time to tell the truth, it’s the ending.

Have your characters spill their guts and reveal everything at the end. Or have the narrator offer wisdom or the naked truth. 

“It’s the kind of impossible story that holds a family together. You tell it over and over again; and with the passage of time, the tale becomes more unbelievable and at the same time increasingly difficult to disprove, a myth about the life you carry.”

– Greg Hrbek, “Sagittarius”

“As the manual often states, it’s my future. And it’s the only one I get.”

— Diane Cook, “Moving On”

“I’ve begun to appreciate just how much work parents invest in their children, and wives in their husbands; it’s only fair for the investor to become the beneficiary.”

— Katie Chase, “Man and Wife”

“…I survive. It’s only one thing. But it’s also everything.

Pick yourself up.

Start over again.”

— Megan Miranda, All the Missing Girls

“She was knickerless. She was victorious. She was a truly modern female.”

— Nicola Barker, “G-string”

“I can stay. I can lie down. Let the snow fall on my face. Let its hands be tender.

Or I can walk, try to find my way in darkness.

I’m a grown woman, an orphan, I have these choices.”

— Melanie Rae Thon, “The Snow Thief”

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One thought on “ 100 Ways to End a Story (with examples) ”

Excellent collection of endings, types… and quite clear and efficient comments. Thank you.

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How to End a Story: 7 Different Kinds of Endings

by Fija Callaghan

Imagine this: you’re reading a thrilling, breakneck story full of deep thematic resonance and memorable characters. The plot is powering towards its climax, and you’re clutching the pages as the clock beside your bed careens past one o’clock in the morning. And then—! The book suddenly grinds to a puzzling, disappointing, and ultimately unsatisfying halt because the writer didn’t know how to end a story the right way.

Don’t be that writer.

Knowing how to end a story is one of the most important, yet undervalued, skills in a writer’s toolbox. Let’s look at why a satisfactory ending matters and how to find the right ones for your own stories.

Why is the ending of a story important?

The ending of a story matters because it’s the final note that the reader will walk away with. Your story’s ending shows the reader what to feel as they leave your story world behind and return to the real one, what lessons to learn from and incorporate into their own lives, and what to expect from you, the author, as they wait impatiently for your next book.

Knowing how to write a good story ending is the key to “closing the deal” with your reader.

How are story endings connected to genre?

You might have noticed that some of your favourite books end in the same way. If you read a lot within the same genre, you might even be able to predict the ending before it happens! This is because certain literary genres come with predetermined expectations based on the patterns we see most often.

You don’t have to use the classic ending for your own story, but it’s good to have an idea of what your readers will be expecting when they open your book. Familiarising yourself with their expectations will also help you subvert them in new, creative ways.

Here are some of the classic literary genres you’ll see most often, and the endings that usually go with them.

1. Romance endings

In romance novels, we’ve been conditioned to look for happy endings. From the opening scene through all the clever plot twists and machinations, everything in the book is working towards a happily ever after for the two romantic leads.

The protagonists go through their own character arcs as they discover more about themselves and their relationship with the world, but ultimately they’ll end up doing pretty okay by the story’s conclusion.

This doesn’t mean you can’t challenge genre norms and give your main characters a bittersweet ending or leave their love story unresolved; however, in this case you might end up moving away from writing a traditional romance and towards something more like literary fiction (we’ll look at that below too).

2. Mystery endings

The golden rule of mystery novels is “expect the unexpected.” If the story you’re writing follows a clear, logical path from start to finish and lays everything out for the reader, they may come away with a frustrating experience. Mysteries and thrillers will be filled with plot twists that keep readers turning pages to find out who done it, or why.

These types of stories aren’t a great match for open or unresolved endings. Even though the reader wants to be surprised, they also want to know exactly what happened and what’s going to happen next. Did the murderer go to prison, escape, or die trying? Did the protagonist uncover the truth and bring the criminal to justice?

There is no right or wrong answer, but the answer does need to be a definitive conclusion rather than something left to interpretation.

3. Horror endings

Horror novels are more flexible than mysteries. They might have a happy or unhappy ending; they might answer all the remaining questions, or they might leave some open to keep the reader mulling things over after the book is closed.

Horror stories are particularly well-suited to ambiguous or unresolved endings. You’ll probably recognise this in some of your favourite horror films or TV series finales:

The heroes finally defeat the monster and celebrate with an extra-cheesy pizza and plans for the future they now have. In the corner of the screen, the dirt where the monster was buried begins to shift ominously. Roll credits.

By leaving a few lingering questions, you make a lasting impression on your reader.

4. Tragic endings

Tragedies are defined by their sad ending. Unlike mysteries, which are filled with twists and turns, the tragic ending should feel inevitable; the hero, through their own weaknesses or choices, brought it on themself.

Tragedies have fallen somewhat out of fashion in contemporary literature (probably because they’re kind of a downer to read), but Shakespeare loved writing them. These types of stories are designed to teach us something about human nature and what happens when we let our weaknesses control us.

Tragedies might use a resolved ending or an implied ending, leaving the final conclusion of the story to happen off the page.

5. Literary endings

Really, all fiction is “literary.” But when we say “literary fiction,” we usually mean books that are marketed as “contemporary,” “women’s fiction,” or realistic historical fiction. This type of story tends to be introspective and thematic, and is suited to both long-form novels and short stories.

In a short story, you generally won’t have the space to flesh out an ambiguous or unresolved ending. These are best suited to a circular ending—for instance, if your story begins and ends in the same location (we’ll take a closer look at circular endings below!)—or a clear ending that show how your main character has undergone some personal transformation.

If you’re writing a novel of literary fiction, you have more room to play with ambiguous, unresolved, or extended endings—so long as they support the broader theme you’re trying to communicate through the work.

We’ll look at all of these types of endings in more detail below!

What about sci-fi and fantasy?!

We didn’t forget, don’t worry! But science fiction and fantasy are actually more marketing genres than literary genres—they tell a reader to expect elves, robots, sorcerers, portals to other worlds, etc, etc. But , they don’t tell you much about what to expect from the plot. You can have a fantasy novel that’s also a romance, mystery, horror, tragedy, or literary story.

Travis Baldree’s Legends & Lattes is a good example of a book that subverts expectations by cramming every possible high fantasy trope into a work of literary fiction.

This means that a sci-fi or fantasy book can comfortably close with any one of the seven story endings we’ll look at below.

7 different ways to end a story

When it comes to figuring out how to end your story and tie up its lingering loose ends, there are a few different paths you can take in your writing. Let’s look at the different types of endings in stories you’ll find throughout literature, so you can find the perfect ending that works best for you.

1. Circular ending

Sometimes called a tie-back ending or a full circle ending, a circular ending brings the story “full circle” back around to where it began—with subtle differences that show how your characters have grown within their world.

Most stories that follow the Hero’s Journey story archetype have a circular plot structure with a tied ending. The protagonist goes on a grand adventure, learns and experiences new things, and then returns to the life they once had, but changed.

In larger works, such as a novel, your circular elements might be a place where your story starts and stops, a thematic idea that your protagonist was working to understand at the beginning of the story, or a metaphor that has taken on new meaning.

2. Resolved ending

Sometimes called a “tied ending,” a resolved ending ties up all the loose ends in your story. Shakespeare was a big fan of resolved story endings; so was Jane Austen. Romance readers have grown to expect a resolved ending, which usually involve everyone living happily ever after (except the villain, who slinks off into obscurity).

Your resolved ending doesn’t necessarily have to be a happily ever after, but it should give the reader a sense of conclusion and fulfillment. For now, at least, everyone’s story has reached its finish line and there’s nothing left to say.

This means tying off all your artfully crafted subplots, addressing all of the dramatic questions raised at the beginning of the story, and ensuring that any lingering secrets have been laid to rest. If your main characters deserve a happy ending, this is the moment they finally reach it.

Giving your story a resolved ending doesn’t mean that your characters’ lives won’t go on beyond the last page in the book. It means that this particular chapter of their lives has come to a close, and now they can embrace a blank slate from which to begin a new one.

3. Unresolved ending

Unresolved story endings leaves loose threads so that the story can continue after the book is closed. This is especially popular with books in a longer series. When you end your story on a cliffhanger , your readers remain engaged with your story until they get a chance to read what happens in the next installment.

Even when you use an unresolved ending to close your story, it should still have that essential sense of completion by the end. You wouldn’t finish the whole story the way you’d finish a chapter. By the time you reach the ending to a story, the major, central conflicts of the plot should be resolved and your players should reach a resting place between battles.

However, an unresolved ending will leave some questions unanswered, and raise new ones about the future of your characters and their world. It’ll always give the reader the feeling that the story continues after the last page.

4. Ambiguous ending

The purpose of an ambiguous ending is to make your readers think. Like an unresolved ending, ambiguous story endings leaves some lingering questions at the end of the book.

The difference is that with an unresolved ending, the reader needs to wait to get the answers from the writer later on. With an ambiguous ending, the readers can reflect on the story and look for answers within themselves.

The best ambiguous endings offer two or more equally conceivable possibilities. For example, your story may end with a separated couple agreeing to meet for coffee. The readers are left wondering: Do they get back together? Or do they get the closure they need so they can move on? Both are within range, and it’s up to the reader to decide what they believe the real truth to be.

Ending the story ambiguously is also a great way to bring your readers together. It will make them want to compare ideas in forums, discussion groups, or with friends. Ambiguous endings engage the reader in a creative and cognitive way.

5. Unexpected ending

Commonly known as the “twist ending,” this ending gives the story one dramatic, final turn as it reaches its close. This works like a literary sleight-of-hand—you tell the reader, “Look, here, at this perfectly incongruous hat!” while your story mechanics are working to create something much more powerful and surprising.

Even though your story ending may be unexpected, it still has to make sense within the world you’ve created. This means laying the groundwork in bits and pieces through plot, character, and setting in a way that slips beneath the reader’s notice, but that they can easily refer back to in their memory so that everything makes sense as they consider the unexpected ending of your story.

This type of ending is the cornerstone of mystery novels. Through genre convention, readers have grown to expect a twist ending that will shock and delight them, but in a way that feels like a natural progression of the story. Done skillfully, the unexpected ending can pack a huge emotional punch and secure you a fan for life.

6. Expanded ending

Also known as an epilogue, this is a second, smaller story built out of your story’s ending. This gives the writer space to explore what happens after the story’s close, and to address any last questions the readers may have.

Do the hero and heroine ever see each other again after they save the world? Does the little girl really grow up to be a doctor like she always wanted? Does the misogynistic young pilot ever grow out of his flaws and become a better person? These are all things that you may not have space for inside your story, but you still want to share with the reader to give them a fuller understanding of your story world. An expanded ending will give your readers the answers they’re craving.

The expanded story ending gives your readers a little more time with your characters before they have to say goodbye. As readers, we understand that their story goes on even after our role of observer has ended. The expanded ending isn’t meant to be a resolution to your plot, but rather a window into what the next chapter of life holds in store for the characters we’ve grown to love.

7. Reflective ending

A reflective ending happens when the protagonist is able to look back at their experiences and consider them through the lens of their growth over the course of the story. They may ask themselves, “Was it really worth it, in the end? Did I do the right thing? How different does the world appear, now that I know the things I do?”

This creates one final, intimate connection with the reader as they explore these ideas together.

This reflection might happen if the character is looking back at an event from their youth, or if their circumstances have changed dramatically through the events of the plot. This type of ending is popular in fantasy and science fiction—for instance, if the character returns to the “real world” after a period of intense fantastical experiences—as well as in creative nonfiction, where the author may be reflecting on some formative events in their real life.

How to find the ending to your story

Now that you know the seven major ways to end a story, how do you decide which one is right for you? Knowing how to end a story is one of the most important steps in finding your story’s trajectory . Let’s look at three ways to write a story ending as you work through your plot from its opening scene to its powerful last lines.

1. Start with the end in mind

Many writers begin with an idea of how their story ends, and build their plot around it. This is particularly true for murder mysteries, where many writers will identify the crime they want to write about, and then form the rest of the story around clues leading up to it.

In other genres such as romance you may have an idea of where you want your characters to end up, and then you’ll spend the rest of the time figuring out the best ways to bring them there.

Starting with the end of your story already in mind is useful for keeping your writing on track and not getting pulled away from the story’s path. You already know that your characters are going to end up together, that they’re going to find the buried treasure in the end, or that they’re going to vanquish the forces of darkness that have risen up against them.

Knowing where your story is going to lead takes away some of the pressure, so that you can enjoy maneuvering your characters through obstacles and life lessons before they reach the finish line.

2. Match your ending to your character arc

Since all story is born out of character , part of your story planning will involve looking at the ways your character is going to learn and grow over time. Often, this will help you see where they need to end up.

For example, if your protagonist is avaricious and sacrifices his relationship with his family to excel at his job, you may decide that by the end he’ll need to have shuffled his priorities and learned the value of what really matters in life. This creates a natural character arc to carry your story from beginning to end.

In a romance, you may have a character who has spent their life disenchanted by love after watching their parents’ messy divorce. Therefore, a natural ending to their story may be that they learn how to avoid their parents’ mistakes and take a chance on a healthy, happy relationship.

By exploring what your character needs, the inevitable ending to their story will become clear.

3. Let the ending surprise you

Some writers find they work best if they explore their story as they write. As in life, the events of a great story may be things we could never have predicted.

As you move through the events of your plot, you may find that your characters take on a life of their own and pull you in directions you didn’t expect.

The great thing about this method is that you can be as fluid as you like; no one ever said you have to write every page in the proper order. As you discover new things about your story world and get a clearer and clearer idea of what the ending is going to look like, you can go back into the early stages of your story and lay the groundwork.

If you decide to incorporate an unexpected twist into your ending, or the people you had planned on ending up together wound up being completely wrong for each other after all, you can return to earlier scenes and gently shift things around so that your ending looks like a natural progression of everything that came before.

Neil Gaiman famously (and wisely) said, “The process of doing your second draft is a process of making it look like you knew what you were doing all along.”

Go out with a bang or a whisper, but go out the right way

With so many different ways to end a story, and so much riding on your story’s big finish, deciding how to end a narrative can be a little intimidating.

Knowing how to write a good ending is essential in finding success as a storyteller, but fortunately, we’ve got your back. With these tips, tricks, and examples, you’ll find that figuring out how to end a story can be the most fun and rewarding part.

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Learn story writing from the masters

How to End a Story (with 7 Famous Examples)

48 Remarkable Comments

48 Comments

Have you ever finished a novel?

If yes, then you know that it feels like Christmas, Easter, and the tooth fairy combined.

Yes, there is something incredibly liberating and satisfying about putting the very last words under a story you have been poring over for months or even years. All of the bits and ideas are finally out and on the paper – it’s like the best form of exorcism ever .

You are free at last, and you have something to show for all of your hard work. If you are a boy, you feel like Ghengis Khan, and if you are a girl, like the Queen of England, I guess… (or like Angela Merkel? Let me know).

Ends don’t come easy, because… well… you have to write the entire piece first. I recently published a post about how to start a novel, which was very popular, and I expect this post here to catch a lot less attention.

Simple math. Lots of people start a novel, but only few writers have the endurance and tenacity to finish one. Google counts 1,900 monthly searches for “how to start a novel,” but only 720 for “how to end a story” (disregard the fact it says ‘novel’ in one and ‘story’ in the other; these are the highest google numbers for beginning/ending a story).

Most people give up on their big plans sooner or later, and that’s true for all areas in life. If you ever had the audacity to finish a novel, or if you will ever have it in the future, you can be very proud of yourself.

The end matters though.

It’s what your readers will take with them from your book. It’s your closing argument and the last thing they read. And it’s what they will remember when they think back to your story in a couple of years, if they remember anything at all.

So you better make your ending count.

Here is the good news: A story ending to remember isn’t even that hard to write. You will now see five typical endings that will leave your reader in delight. Authors use these five endings all the time, and that’s because they work really well.

If all else fails, just use one of these examples as a template for your own story.

In this post, find:

• 5 very captivating ways to end your story
• The one story ending that is low key, but very atmospheric
• How you can connect opening and closing scenes to come a full circle
• Endings of famous novels to inspire your own endings

Want more closings? Download this:

How to End a Story PDF

I prepared a neat little PDF for you that summarizes this post. As a bonus, you can find two more famous story ending examples plus their descriptions. Let all of these endings inspire you. Instantly download for free:

Let’s take a look at how five reputable authors put their final exclamation marks on their finished pieces.

5 Good Story Endings Examples

1. take them by surprise, (agatha christie, and then there were none).

Surprise works every single time. That’s because us humans are just curious creatures. You could uncover a surprising fact or give the action a surprising twist. Anyways, your readers will appreciate being astonished; after all, that’s what they are reading stories for.

Your readers will have certain expectations. They depend on the genre, the protagonists, the language, and so on… Be aware of your readers’ expectations. Put yourself in their shoes. Then give them something they don’t expect, but still makes sense for your story.

Maybe the thief turns out to be the narrator’s own husband or even the narrator herself. Maybe the girl doesn’t pick between her two suitors, but instead marries their uncle. Or their plumber.

Agatha Christie, the master of plausible surprise, shows us perfectly how it’s done in And Then There Were None . Ten visitors are trapped on a small island and murdered one by one. As nobody else is on the island, it’s clear one of them must be the murderer… but who?

One suspect after another is snuffed out, until only one person is left alive. It’s now clear she must be the murderer, until… the highly unexpected closure reveals she is not. The novel ranks amongst the bestselling books of all time.

You will have to do without a quote on this one, because publishing the outcome of a murder mystery is just… bad taste; like sticking your finger into somebody else’s ice cream. You will have to find out for yourself.

2. Play on Their Sentiments with an Elegiac Fade Out

( the unbearable lightness of being, milan kundera).

Milan Kundera takes a very different approach when he wraps up his The Unbearable Lightness of Being :

Kundera’s classic novel fades into the distance like a piece of music. The ending doesn’t want to bring suspense, puzzle or get you to think. It’s all about mood. It’s a slow ending.

Try to make your reader really feel the power of the moment, be it terrifying, happy, sad, or sentimental.

Think of little symbols, like the butterfly above; with Kundera, it might stand for lightness, repeating the theme in the novel’s title. You could zoom in on a tapping finger or a dew drop, or zoom out to show wooded hills or a rural mansion. Landscapes and weather make very memorable finishing moments (“…and great shaggy flakes of snow began to fall.”).

Leave the reader with a unique vibe, and she will appreciate it. Sometimes, it’s all your closure needs.

3. Throw Them a Punchline

( animal farm, george orwell).

With this one, you have to be careful. Do you know that situation when Uncle Albert at the holiday lunch table makes a big fuss about his upcoming joke, but the punchline is almost non-existent? You don’t want to be like that. You could tell a joke or describe surprising action, but make it count.

Your punchline doesn’t have to be funny. It could be an action or a simple observation. In any case, it should connect to the story topic, even if it’s just a symbolic hint. Otherwise it will be up in the air and look arbitrary.

George Orwell’s novel Animal Farm is one big parable on how totalitarian systems arise and thrive. It’s told in an animal world. Look at the clever, indirect, but also poignant note Orwell ends on:

4. Leave Open Questions and Create Suspense

( gone with the wind, margaret mitchell).

If you want to tickle your reader with suspense, cue an open ending: Ok, the Apaches are defeated, but will they be back again? Got it, the starship has escaped the pudding-like aliens, but will it ever make its way home to planet earth?

These kind of endings will keep your readers on their toes and make them long for more. But be aware that they can also be very unsatisfying. After all, your reader bought your book so he can hear from you what happened. “Just imagine the rest yourself,” can be a little unsatisfactory. But if you have delivered a great deal of action beforehand and if the question is rather vague, it might be worth it.

Let’s showcase another one of the most successful novels of all time, Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind . It ends with Scarlett O’Hara longing to be together with Rhett Butler again – but can she? Also pay attention to the nice rhythm that keeps these phrases flowing:

5. Repeat the Theme of the Opening Scene

( american psycho, bret easton ellis).

Whatever your story is about, it probably circles around one specific topic: Be it the struggles of love, the rewards of honesty, or whatever else. It’s what keeps your readers breathless throughout the story. Now give them one last reminder of what they came for, one condensed moment of your topic, a big final exclamation mark!

You have many options to repeat your main theme in the closure. Think of people, actions, details.

Maybe your story is about the importance of friendship, and you wrap up with one friend putting a patch on the other friend’s abrasion.

Or you end on one friend smilingly watching the other friend’s bag while she is away.

Or a close up on the yin and yang badge on that very bag. It might be very simple, but it automatically gains meaning because it’s the last part.

Bret Easton Ellis’ nihilistic novel American Psycho starts by describing a graffiti with the text Abandon all hope ye who enter here.

The novel fittingly ends with a nihilistic paragraph as well. Large parts of the following text read arbitrary in content and form. In the end the very last words of the novel spell it out clearly: NOT AN EXIT.

You can end your stories in an infinite number of ways, but these five closings will intrigue your readers, no matter what.

They will evoke joy, melancholy, surprise and other powerful feelings in your audience, and your readers will remember how they felt about your story for a long, long time to come.

That’s it, five endings. If you want two more famous endings analyzed, download the PDF:

‘Good Story Endings’ PDF

Download the free 2-page summary sheet for this post, and use it as inspiration whenever you are looking for your own perfect ending. Contains the five examples of this post summarized, plus two more endings in detail.

Definitely download this, so you don’t miss out on the last two examples!

And now the only thing left is…

Your Writing Prompt

• Cecile has been travelling the entire world in search for her biological father, only to in the end discover that he works at the post office in her village.
• Harry is troubled by a gambling addiction and has piled up a frightening amount of debt that threatens to destroy his life. After giving all of his possessions to the poorhouse and cutting up every credit card, he can suddenly walk freely amongst the casino tables; his addiction is gone.
• Lilly wants to be a painter, but her husband is constantly telling her that she has no talent, will never get anywhere, and should stop molesting the brushes. At the end of the story, she breaks free mentally, paints something beautiful, and finds deep confidence in her abilities.
• Pick an ending of any of your own stories, or make one up on the spot.

I’m curious to see how you guys are approaching these endings. Let me know: What’s your favorite type of ending; as a writer as well as a reader? Do you need a happy end?

You can find many, many writing prompts on the writing prompts page . Pick one and practice writing just the ending for it.

How to End a “How to End a Story” Post

Finishing your novel is something special, and you have several options for putting that final exclamation mark under your baby, before you release it into the wild.

Listen to your story: What does it need? A silent or a loud ending, an open or a closed finish? These ideas came from you, so you know the answer. Trust yourself. Your gut instinct will tell you.

Once you set that final period, celebrate! You pushed through it, you created something original and beautiful, something dramatic, fantastic or exciting, and nobody can ever take that away from you.

You made it, my writer friend… and now it’s time to be very proud of yourself!

Did you like this article? Get the free e-book and occasional updates!

48 Remarkable Comments. Join in!

Fantastic info! I am 1/2 way thru my second novel and need to finish it. I was tuck for an ending of the story but now I have some ideas.

That’s great, Myrna! Access your intuition. I can see from your webpage that you are a palm reader, so you are probably well-connected with your intuition already.

Interesting, Alex… You suggest that:  “Ends don’t come easy, because… well… you have to write the entire piece first.”

This isn’t entirely true. I usually get around a third to half way through a book before I get an idea about where the plot is leading… I’m a ‘pantser’, not a planner. When I start a novel, like my readers, I haven’t a clue what’s going to happen, or what I might find between the pages (other than the one or more themes I intend to weave my story around.). If I find myself needing to keep turning pages to see what’s happening next, hopefully my readers will do the same.

Once I get an idea for the ending, I’ll write it… or at least a first draft of it… then I’ll steer the separate threads of the story towards it. Hopefully I’ll twist a little tension into those threads as I go, which can be released at the climax as a surprise to the reader and a satisfactory ending to the plot.

But my ‘satisfactory ending’ is never the end of the book. I’ll always have one last twist, or sting in the tail, on either the final page, or as a last short chapter (if it takes place at the same time as the ending, or immediately following it).

Occasionally, my final twist will be in an epilogue, taking place some while after the main narrative has ended reasonably satisfactorily… sometimes months or even years later… to add yet another unexpected topping to the whole confection.

(I’ve also on a couple of occasions, repeated one or other of these endings as the prelude to a following novel in the series.)

That’s an interesting approach, it’s like you are closing in on the middle from both ends. And you write multi-layered too; no easy solutions, but twists and surprises. Me likey.

I hadn’t thought about it as closing in on the middle from both ends… I hadn’t really thought about it at all. It’s just how I write, but I guess you’re right, I do frequently return to earlier chapters throughout the writing process, to add scenes, details, clues, and even characters to foreshadow later events that I hadn’t dreamed of at those early stages. (I also tend to edit myself as I go… leaving my final editing as a much easier job, and even reducing the work my editor has to do, though he often comes up with some good ideas for polishing the plot, or for honing the accuracy of any ‘facts’ by checking with his own contacts – He’s a writer too, and like us all, has a ‘little black book’ of useful experts).

I always start with several (well at least two) scenes I’ve previously written for ‘a new book’… each around one of themes I want to include – For example, in the last book published (Disrespected), I had ideas about hi-jacking a bus. I also wanted to feature ‘honour crime’, and identity theft/fraud, as well as opening with ’the big reveal’ about whether a popular regular character was now being mourned, or had survived the ending of the previous book in the series. I wrote scenes for all these ideas before I started writing the novel. 

When I started on the book itself, I put these scenes into some kind of order as the first chapter, to introduce the characters and these seemingly disparate themes to the reader (this is my usual practice).

From then on, it’s a case of developing each of these parallel threads to see where they lead me, while all the time thinking about what kind of end game would suit all of them, and how these themes could somehow be connected.

When an idea for the end dawns on me… I write it. – Though as it turned out, in ‘Disrespected’, another continuing theme developed, following my unexpectedly (to me) deciding to have a character murdered for surprise effect, which determined having yet another conclusion followed by another surprise twist in the tail.

Interesting to hear how it works for you specifically. You have definitely found the process that works best for you; a mixture between planning and going with your gut. Good writing, Chris!

Your writing prompt… Something sprang immediately into my cruel and devious mind for the first scenario:  Cecile has been travelling the entire world in search for her biological father, only to in the end discover that he works at the post office in her village.

Still dozy from the drugs, Cecile turned to look at the smiling doctor.

“I’ve some good news for you, Cecile…” He began, “We’ve found a matching donor.”

She smiled thinly, “Really?… A good match?”

The doctor nodded, “Very good, my dear… A close family member has come forward.” He could see the surprise on her face.

“But I’ve got no living family… at least, none I’m aware of.” She explained. “The only unknown quantity was my biological father… but I’ve been trying to find him all my adult life, to no avail.” She shrugged, “He clearly doesn’t want to be found… If he’s even still alive…” She stopped mid sentence, puzzled by the expression on her consultant’s face.

“Following the appeals, your father has come forward and has tested positive… We’re scheduling the operations for later in the week, so you need to get some rest.” He smiled, “Try to get some sleep.”

As the surgeon walked away, Cecile realised that sleep was the last thing she’d be able to get. She had too much buzzing around in her head. She reached for the TV remote and turned the set on to catch the evening news broadcast.

A sombre looking reporter appeared, in front of a backdrop of carnage and the flashing lights of emergency services vehicles.

“Police and firefighters say there is little hope of any survivors of this afternoon’s bombing atrocity. As yet, no motives are known, and no terrorist organisation has claimed responsibility. This is the third Post Office bombing this year. It’s suspected that the same organisation are behind all of them… This is Michael Thompson, BBC News, Dorset.”

Cecile frowned as the screen returned to the newscaster in the studio. There was something about the scene that looked eerily familiar. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the consultant hurrying towards her with a serious look on his face.

Dark, Chris, very dark. But like with a terrible car crash in front of you, it’s difficult to look away…

Cecile walked to the Post Office in her hometown. Her journey had led to this. All the spit in all the DNA samples in the world led her back to the five square blocks of her childhood. She remembered walking up the steps to post her first letter; the postman was serious as he carefully weighed the one-page letter knowing just how important this letter to Santa Claus was to the six-year-old. He carefully affixed the stamp with extra care. “You know Santa keeps track of how neat everything is in his letters,” he had said with a kind twinkle in his eye.

Cecile returned to the present and screwed up her courage. She ran up the stairs opening the glass door that exposed her old P. O. Box. At the counter stood the kind old man she remembered. He turned toward her, “You know, don’t you.”

All she could do was nod as her tears spilled onto her cheeks.

He opened the swinging door that separated him from his daughter. “My name is Ralph; I don’t expect you to call me Dad.”

She walked the few steps that separated them stopping just one step away from him. “I’ve been around the world looking for you.”

Ralph took the final step toward her and brought her into a hug. “All that matters now is you are here now.”

Cecile sighed and relaxed into the hug. It felt like home.

Definitely a very emotional ending, and one readers will remember.

Details matter too; I’m referring to something like “I don’t expect you to call me Dad.” It’s a bit ambiguous too, we can guess it’s because he doesn’t want to demand anything, but it could be other reasons too.

I like how Chris and you made completely different stories and endings out of the same prompt.

Thank-you for the constructive criticism. I’ll be back with something a little less ambiguous.

That wasn’t meant as criticism at all. It’s my interpretation, and I saw it as something positive.

Ah, constructive criticism is not meant to be negative. It’s expected to be helpful. Maybe it’s an Americanism. Feedback may have been a better word. Your suggestion is helpful. Since this is an ending, I was relying on a backstory that the reader doesn’t know. I see the error in that. See you later, Friend.

Here is the less ambiguous version. I hope I don’t drown you in details. Cecile walked to the Post Office in her hometown. Her journey had led to this. All the spit in all the DNA samples in the world led her back to the five square blocks of her childhood. She remembered walking up the steps to post her first letter; the postman was serious as he carefully weighed the one-page letter knowing just how important this letter to Santa Claus was to the six-year-old. He carefully affixed the stamp with extra care. “You know Santa keeps track of how neat everything is in his letters,” he had said with a kind twinkle in his eye.

Cecile returned to the present and screwed up her courage. She ran up the stairs opening the glass door that exposed her old P. O. Box. At the counter stood the kind man she remembered. His hair was no longer the strawberry red it used to be; it had faded to white. He turned toward her, “You know, don’t you?”

He opened the swinging door that separated him from his daughter; he started babbling everything he wanted her to know, “I took the DNA test hoping you’d find me. My name is Ralph; I don’t expect you to call me Dad. Mr. Chandler was an excellent father to you. I loved your mother so much, when she died my heart broke. You have her aqua eyes. Every time I saw you carrying your letters I remembered her. I had lost my job and couldn’t afford to take care of you. It was for the best I put you up for adoption. When I got the job here, I was thrilled that I could watch you grow up. But I couldn’t tell you. Do you forgive me?”

“Yes, of course, I do,” she smiled the tears running down her face dropping onto her favorite silk blouse, “The records were sealed until I reached my majority. Mom and Pop told me I was adopted a while ago. They also told me I had a guardian angel looking over me. I think they figured out that you were my father. Your hair used to be my color,” Cecile paused to think, “Were you the one who answered the Santa Claus letters?”

Ralph nodded, “Your parents let me do that for you. They allowed me to get the dog for you when they said you were responsible for it. It took me a month to find the right dog. You opened the door and looked at the big wicker basket. Then the puppy barked, and you squealed. I never saw you so happy. I was across the street. I had a story ready if you happened to see me,” he laughed at the memory.

“Scamp is an old dog now,” She walked the few steps that separated them stopping just one step away from him. “I’ve been around the world looking for you.”

Replying to your comment below and your second version: No error in the first version at all. I actually liked it better, because it leaves some mystery and behind-the-scenes emotion in the text. The first version worked really well.

Re-writing scenes is an excellent exercise to improve your writing though.

As I read it, the ambiguity was in that wonderful line: “My name is Ralph; I don’t expect you to call me Dad.”

It was that very ambiguity that worked so well, in the way it showed his uncertainty about how she would react to his deception (even by default) and whether her tears were of relief or sadness and disappointment… at least, that’s how I understood it.

If anything, your ‘less ambiguous’ version doesn’t work as well. It leaves less for the reader to wonder about, or interpret for themselves. Readers like to feel involved.

Okay, I’m still learning. Thanks. Finding the balance between details and reader involvement is not an easy one. I wasn’t satisfied with that middle part so I didn’t completely trust my instincts.

Thanks, Sophie!

#2 Spilled bourbon and stale perfume permeated the casino’s air. Harry let out a sigh, straightened his shoulders and weaved passed the poker tables. A shiny token gleamed on the carpet. The ching, ching, of the slot machines sang in his ear. He kissed it, tossed it over his shoulder and walked out into the bright sun of the Vegas Strip.

Not one look over his shoulder. Sounds to me like he will never look back again… A clear case of elegiac fade-out.

I love those last two sentences, reminding us that to addicts, gambling isn’t just an evening or night time entertainment. Up until then, it could so easily be a closed casino, after the public have left.

Thank you. I, myself, stay away from slots, not because I’m addicted to gambling, but because I get really ticked off when I play those machines. I’m no fun on the casino floor. Ha.

I’m just the same, Alice. Gambling for fun has no interest to me (real life is enough of a gamble), though I have used an illicit gambling club/casino as a background to a story – my short novella, ‘Payback’- “Does that make me a bad person?” … The second prequel/taster to my ‘Lena’s Friends’ series (click on my name at the head of the post for my page). There’s a different kind of ‘fun on the casino floor’ when Lena and her friends are involved… but with some sinister undertones, and dark secrets.

Your last two sentences, however, work so well. The first to show the casino is open and operating… The second to remind the reader that to hardened gamblers, there are no days and nights, and very little sunshine.

How many times had I stood there, waiting for the crowd to clear so that I could have a few minutes to talk to Aunt Kate? Pick up the mail. Talk to Kate. Off to work.

Kate, my other mother, the one I could get decent advice from, the one who always got me.

Granny told me that if anyone could tell me about my father, it would be Kate.

But I’d been afraid to ask. That was one thing about Kate. You didn’t want to piss her off, and my mother was a subject sure to piss Kate off.

After Mum died, after the expenses, and the settling of the estate, and bullying Frank into giving me time off work; after following in her footsteps around the world following the details in her diary, I found myself back home again. The end of her journey with two-year-old me in tow. All the adventures, and the promise that John would be waiting.

John? John fucking who?

I know. I know how ridiculous it was to travel around the world when I could have asked Kate. I admit it. I was half-afraid that it would turn out to be John Wallace or one of the three John Smiths in the village. How unbearably prosaic. I had this image of myself, an image that didn’t include a farmer, a mechanic, an unemployed drunk, or worst of all, an accountant.

Hell, I probably could have asked around the village and found out. I could have. It wasn’t a secret. But, of course, people didn’t say things to children, and I imagine that after a while, people supposed I knew. Like when Lily Mathers talked about Bess Hamby’s suicide and it turned out her daughter hadn’t known. God, what a fiasco that was.

And John. Mum’s John. That was a story no-one was talking about around Mum. Or me. John who promised to wait, but didn’t promise not to change.

It occurs to me that Mum imagined she’d cured John. Cured him of his notions.

As if sex and its consequences was a cure for anything.

There. I’ve approached it.

Because on some level, I always knew.

I have her eyes.

Clap, clap, clap… That’s awesome, Sherryl! A complete mini-story with twists and turns and a “Take them by surprise” ending. It drew me in, and I had to smirk several times.

This is my favorite part: “I was half-afraid that it would turn out to be John Wallace or one of the three John Smiths in the village. How unbearably prosaic. I had this image of myself, an image that didn’t include a farmer, a mechanic, an unemployed drunk, or worst of all, an accountant.”

And of course the ending, where the story twists and turns again like a snake on a country road. Nice!

I’m glad you liked it. As soon as I saw the prompt, it popped into my head. I recently watched “The Danish Girl” and it inspired me.

Sorry, my doorbell rang, the dogs barked and I hit send before saying thank you. I never miss your blog posts. I don’t comment very often. This is great info. I can’t wait for your series about procrastination and writer’s block. I hope Bosco is feeling better.

Hey Alice, that is a very sweet comment. And thanks, I was a bit worried for a couple of days, but Bosco is well and happily woofing away now. Tell your dogs I said hi!

Alex, I’ll have another look at the end already written to make sure it’s the best one. I’ve written the beginning too, and now for the agonizing middle. Maybe if I write chapters from the end and chapters from the beginning I’ll have the middle covered. Thanks for some great ending ideas. Happy Bosco is better. Christine 

Hi Christine, if only there was no middle, and our stories could just consist of big beginnings and epic endings. 😉 Glad it helps.

But they do, Alex… All the way through. 😀 

This could be the beginning of a story. “If only there was no middle, and my stories could just consist of a big beginning and epic ending.” The middle is the scary part where I have to lay all my secrets bare.

Could be a horror story, if the mighty middle frightens you… or a love story if in the end you do fall in love with it…

This has been rattling around in my head for a while. Since the beginning and one scene of this story already exist in “RidethePen,” I thought I’d finish Elise’s story here for you.

Stepping into the light at the end of her last night shift, she smelled the ozone announcing a spring shower was minutes away. What a difference a year made. Looking back, it was that horrible night at the hospital that started it all. God! Elise would never forget that night. Sudden pain, the sticky metallic wetness of congealing blood dripping on her face, the hours of questioning, and a compulsion to drink. That beatnik. She couldn’t remember a damn word of that poem that pulled her out of her darkness, but she left the whiskey sour, her last drink, there, sitting on the table. Stepping into the night, she had seen that detective leaning languidly under the street light. It’s umbra both lighting him and casting him in shadows. The shadows were emphasizing his long legs crossed casually at the ankle. The collar of his trench coat turned up. His fedora tipped forward on his head. Damn if that man didn’t look good. All he needed was a cigarette hanging from his lips to be a character in a Sam Spade novel.”You followed me here, detective.” “Yeah, I was afraid I’d have to pour you into your apartment after the day you had. Who’d’ve thunk it, someone hated your ex more than you did.” “You just might have had to carry me out of that bar, but I’ve had my last drink. He just nodded and took a step closer, “I remember my last drink.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a cap. “It’s from the last beer I ever had,” he gave it to her, “So that you know you’re not alone.” He walked with her in silence to her apartment. “I’ll meet you downstairs at 6:00 am. We’ll have breakfast, and I’ll take you to a meeting if you’re ready.” Elise smiled for what felt like the first time in forever and said, “I’ll be there, detective.” “Make that Paul,” a slow lopsided grin appeared on his face, “See you then, Elise.” That was a year ago. Now she left the ER for the last time. Paul was leaning, God, he was good at that, against his car. “Ready to go,” she said as he opened the door for her. “One year sober,” She stopped before getting in, “Just why didn’t you want to be my sponsor that night?” Paul closed the space between them and gently placed his hands on the sides of her face. He drew her into the most toe-curling kiss of her life. She steadied her hands on his shoulders as he took his time pulling away. “That’s why. Are you ready?” Ready, oh boy, was she ready. They pulled out into the sunrise as the rain started, meeting, then breakfast, then the rest of her life, one day at a time.

That last sentence sounds good and points into the future in a subtle way.

My nonfiction travel story was peppered with literal twists and turns with the objective of sharing my own curiosity about what lay around each bend. Early on I expressed this as an ongoing and eager feeling of “what next?”

I knew I had my ending as I detailed the “final mile,” curious about what adventure may follow. And as the sun set on my drive – literally and figuratively – I expressed the recurring presence of that always eager, “What next?”

Real world and figurative world converging – good travels, Russ!

Couldn’t write a novel if my life depended on it. But short stories…..well, they’re a different matter.

I try to create endings which flow from what’s gone before. Naturally, realistically and satisfyingly. If there’s a twist, hopefully there’s a clue or two in there from which the reader can guess the ending.

But I’ve never been paid for my stories, so what do I know? My audience are my Facebook friends and fellow writing course participants.

Tying your ending to your story organically is good advice. Your writer’s gut will tell you how the story must end.

I completely agree with what you have written. I hope this post could reach more people as this was truly an interesting post.

Good writing for your next ending!

Sorry Alex, There is no ‘Queen of England,’ a lazy cliché. Apart from that I enjoy your advice.

Thanks, Ken

Queen of the United Kingdom.

Doesn´t sound as crisp though…

The Queen is dead! Long live the King! Although…, I doubt he will live as long. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist)

Rare opportunities for such a unique experience were greatly appreciated. These unusual encounters were the means of expression and expansion of personal mindfulness, granting a better understanding of the adventure of the dance of life. So often, it felt more like a roller coaster ride with all the ups and downs, twists and turns taken before coming to a gentle slowing before stopping. And what a ride it has been!

As this reverie ends, Lynn can now fully understand that there must be a balance in bringing maturity to all the facets of one’s life. Throughout the latter relationship journey, she was given an incredible opportunity to truly explore many elements of physical and emotional energy while coming to terms with past fears and anxieties over sexuality.

For whatever time is left, now is the time to step aside to the sidelines, knowing full well that there would be no repeating that special rhythmic dance she had mastered. But one never knows. . . perhaps a short two-step could be awaiting her attention. After all, there are no guarantees in this life journey, are there?

Good to hear your ending, Carolynn!

Ride the pen!

Just so you know, the queen and king comment is not part of the ending. I was a bit of a ‘smart ass.’ It could be said that it comes with age and stage.

The book is an overview of three significant relationships throughout a lifetime. Well, I am still here, so life is not quite over but getting closer as time passes. The book reviews what I learned about myself on my journey to finding love, joy and appreciation through those connections no matter how difficult.

Thank you for your comment. I will do my best to continue ‘riding that pen.’

Ah, now I get it. A biographical tale in third person!

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How to Come Up with a Great Ending for Your Story

Last Updated: February 27, 2024 Fact Checked

This article was co-authored by Christopher Taylor, PhD . Christopher Taylor is an Adjunct Assistant Professor of English at Austin Community College in Texas. He received his PhD in English Literature and Medieval Studies from the University of Texas at Austin in 2014. There are 7 references cited in this article, which can be found at the bottom of the page. This article has been fact-checked, ensuring the accuracy of any cited facts and confirming the authority of its sources. This article has been viewed 325,903 times.

Stories present an event or series of events and have a beginning, middle, and end. A good story — one that causes a strong response in your reader — often has an ending that creates a significant impact on the reader. To write a good ending for your story, show the reader why your story is important.

Deciding the End

• Your ending should come when the main character reaches or fails to reach their goal
• For example, if your character wants to be rich, they could go through various challenges in order to buy a lottery ticket. Do they succeed? If so, end with the moment they hear all the numbers on their ticket being announced.

• For example, you might end your story with a scene that presents the aftermath of a major decision that resolved your story's conflict.

• Ask yourself these questions to figure out which type of conflict you're using: Are the characters in your story fighting against nature? Against each other? Against themselves (an internal or emotional battle)?
• An example of human-versus-nature conflict would be someone stranded in the woods in the middle of winter. They must find a place to get warm, out of the elements.

Explaining the Journey

• You might write, "My grandfather always made a point of expecting me to do the just and fair thing, in any situation. Now that I am a police officer I understand why he felt this was so important..."

• For example: "Why should we care about Noni and his village?"
• "Because the warming climate caused the sea levels to rise and flood his village. If we don't learn from his mistakes and act fast, we could suffer the same fate."

• For example: "I realized all my hard work and long rehearsals had led me to this moment, standing on this incredible stage..."

• For example: "Denise folded the letter, kissed it, and set it down on the table, next to the money. They would have questions for her, she knew, but in time they would learn, as she had done, to find their own answers."

• For a personal or academic essay, your conclusion could take the form of a final paragraph or set of paragraphs.
• If you are working on a sci-fi novel, then the conclusion might be an entire chapter or two.
• Don't end with common cliche endings, which will disappoint your reader. For example, don't end your story like this: "A blinding light pierced my eyes, so I lifted my hand to shield them. At that moment, I felt the cocoon of soft blankets around me and the comfort of my pillow. I opened my eyes, realizing it had all been a dream."

Using Action and Images

• For example, if your story ends with the heroine saving the village from the dragon, you could have a warrior giving over his prized sword to her. Without even having any dialogue, you still show the reader that this is significant.

• "Timmy knew the monster was defeated, sinking into the depths of the toilet bowl, but he stood and waited anyway, watching for every spot of brown to disappear, until nothing but a clear, blue calm remained. He did not move until his reflection returned to him in the surface of the bowl's water."

• "As Sam said goodbye and revved motorcycle, Joe could feel her becoming a memory--taking off in an explosion of sound, then stretching away, a rocket's arc down the street, until she was nothing more than the aftermath of a firework, a thrilling vision he would always feel lucky to have seen up close."

• For example, if your story begins with a person looking at a leftover piece of cake, but refusing it, end it with the same person looking at the cake (or a different one). If they overcame anorexia, you could have them eat the cake.

Following Logic

• For example, Homer's "The Odyssey” the main character Odysseus attempts to go home a number of times and fails, encountering monsters along the way. Each failure adds excitement to the story, but what he learns about himself ends up being more important. When he does eventually make it home, his accomplishment holds more meaning because of all his failures.

• Endings should make sense based on what has happened earlier.

• For example, if your characters come across a secret doorway to a fantasy land while looking for their lost dog, return to the dog at the end. Let them visit the fantasy land, then have them find their lost dog at the end.

• For example, your readers might be bored by a character who wakes up, goes to school, comes home, and goes to bed. Let something new and surprising happen. Have her come across a strange package on her doorstep with her name on it.

• What new conflicts, for example, now await your heroes now that the monster has been destroyed? How long will the kingdom remain at peace?

Expert Q&A

• Outline! Before you start writing anything, write an outline. An outline is your map through your story. It tells you where you've been and where you're going. An outline is the only way to see the entire structure of the story at a glance, and thus it is a really effective way to see how your ending might work. Thanks Helpful 0 Not Helpful 0
• Ask someone else to read your story and give you feedback on your ending. Make sure that it is someone whose opinion you trust and respect. Thanks Helpful 0 Not Helpful 0
• Pay attention to the genre you are writing within. A story included as part of a history-based essay will have certain qualities that are different from a short horror story. A story told in a stand-up comedy routine will have different elements than a travel magazine story. Thanks Helpful 0 Not Helpful 0

You Might Also Like

• ↑ https://examples.yourdictionary.com/essential-elements-of-story-writing.html
• ↑ https://writingcenter.unc.edu/handouts/conclusions/
• ↑ https://www.grammarly.com/blog/first-second-and-third-person/
• ↑ https://writingcenter.unc.edu/tips-and-tools/conclusions/
• ↑ https://literarydevices.net/imagery/
• ↑ https://literarydevices.net/frame-story/
• ↑ https://www.creative-writing-now.com/story-endings.html

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When You Write

How to End a Short Story: Crafting A Satisfying Conclusion

For some writers, starting a short story is usually easier than writing the ending. For others, it’s the end that falls into place quite easily.

But with fiction writing, every part of the story takes huge amounts of creativity and effort, so I wouldn’t conclude that the ending of a short story ought to be the easier part.

As a matter of fact, we―more often than not―write the ending to our short story lastly. By this time, we are probably tired, have exhausted a lot of time trying to approach the conclusion, and are likely out of ideas.

So it’s okay if you usually don’t have the littlest ideas of how to end a short story.

Don’t sweat it though, I have you covered. In this post, I have included the best and worst ways to end a short story. And… I have also added some examples of short story endings, among other tips.

Let’s get started.

The best Ways To End A Short Story

1. a cliffhanger.

A cliffhanger ending leaves the story unresolved, the end still leaves an aura of suspense, and it is said to be cliff-hanging. This plot device is used to compel the readers to anxiously wait for or, if it’s already published, rush for the story’s next installment.

A cliffhanger can end the short story with a main character facing peril, or it can end the short story with a very shocking revelation.

2. Resolved Ending

This is the “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” type of ending. A resolved ending packages the whole story in one read, and everything is concluded once the reader finishes reading it.

A resolved ending leaves no speculations or questions; all the plotlines and character stories are closed with the ending.

3. Twist ending

Writers can introduce an exciting surprise at the end of a short story, a set of unexpected events that catch the reader off-guard.

This type of ending can turn the narrative on its head and reveal the mirage in the story. In some stories, a twist may involve a villain turning out to be the hero (or vice versa), or a character being someone else who had disappeared in the early stages of the story.

A twist ending can either disappoint the reader or offer them relief from a tragic scene (in which a character ‘died’ but wasn’t dead). Either way, this type of ending evokes an emotional response from the reader.

4. Implied ending

An implied ending involves some sort of explicitness in the way the story is concluded or ended.

This type of ending can frustrate the reader or get them in all sorts of conversations with other readers, trying to figure out what really happened.

Authors hold back some of the details or intentionally cut out bits of logical explanations, leaving the readers some clues to piece the ending together on their own.

With no clear ending, readers usually end up with a blizzard of questions.

An ending like this works effectively for the story and author because it leaves the readers talking and thinking about the story longer than they would if the story just ended normally. This means that the author can reap some rewards because the story solicits engagement long after it has been read, and that may lead to an increase in the number of people looking at your work.

5. A Bare Ending

The writer reveals the ending at the beginning of the story. Although the reader is robbed of the suspense that comes with an unknown ending, the writer can still throw in lots of twists and turns as the story fleshes out.

A bare ending provides the writer with a clear direction of the story, and they can enjoy writing it, knowing where exactly the story is headed. Any event added to the story is intended to counterpoise anything that might have seemed to steer the story in a different direction, thereby leading it toward the known ending of the short story.

How to Write Great Closing Lines

Closing lines are important in short stories because they complement the perfectness of the delicious story you’ve just dished to the reader.

Fiction is all about creativity, and as such, there can be no rules on how to write final sentences, but there are tips that help you write good closing lines:

1. Be Poetic

Fiction doesn’t need to be overly flowery, but with the final sentence, you can unleash the poet in you and give the reader an aesthetic ending.

Don’t get carried away; maintain the simplicity. Do not stuff the ending with ineffectual decorative words that will leave the reader looking them up in a dictionary.

Simple words, if used creatively, can take on a poetic, symbolic form. It’s not a must that you end a short story poetically, so don’t try too hard. Sometimes, a poetic ending can happen by chance.

2. Use Impeccable Wording

It’s not that easy, but you have to make sure that you revise your last sentence over and over until every word in it sounds perfect, and every period, comma, or dash is in its place.

The truth of the matter is you are not a poet (well, some of you sure aren’t), and coming up with a poetic ending is a tough ask. But, you can still give your most important sentence—the closing line—some time and effort and keep housekeeping your ending until it’s just perfect.

Good Story Endings Examples

The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which Animal Farm, George Orwell.

George Orwell’s conclusion of his novel Animal Farm is one delivered on a plate of parables, and it indirectly, cleverly, and touchingly remarks on human nature.

Charles Dickens created some of the best cliffhangers of all time. He gave both the readers and his fellow writers the allure of a cliffhanger. And he did this in the early nineteenth century when cliffhangers were really a thing.

He served his novel The Old Curiosity Shop in weekly installments. The most exciting, one that kept readers waiting for weeks, was about a character called Little Nell whose death was used by the author to play with the reader’s emotions—effectively, might I add.

The Worst Ways to End a Short Story

1. abruptly introduce a resolution.

You can easily ruin things when you suddenly introduce a resolution to a seemingly impossible situation. There should be no magic wand with the way your story is resolved; it doesn’t have to be realistic, but the way it is eased into the story has to have a logical connection with the rest of the story.

2. Have a predictable End

In an earlier section, I talked about a bare ending that involves the writer disclosing the ending before the story gets there. If you start that way, the end isn’t predictable but known.

However, if you haven’t disclosed the ending, it’s not going to do you any good if the average reader can predict the way the story is going to conclude. Your readers aren’t looking for a plainly realistic ending; they want you to surprise them.

3. Take too long to end the story

I always emphasize the importance of ending a story just after the climax. The story doesn’t have to die down completely; you have to end on a thrashing wave.

If your story takes longer to end, it might bore the reader and force them to leave the story before they get to the end.

4. End a story too soon

Ending a short story should neither take long nor be rushed. A good ending concludes naturally, following a logical sequence. Most often, a writer can feel when a story nears a logical conclusion (if you end it sooner, you’ll ruin it).

Of course, we all know that a short story has a small word count—usually not enough for an extensive plotline—but you have to compress the story in a way that ends it no sooner or later than natural.

5. Kill Favorite Characters

The worst psychotic murderers that I know are writers. It’s like they get intense pleasure from killing characters. They usually do it so masterfully that they get away with it most of the time, but if they kill favorite characters at the wrong time (like at the end), they might upset readers who are emotionally invested in the story.

Killing a favorite villain is more excusable (maybe because the story has to carry a moral element) but killing the hero’s baby right at the end does the writer no favors.

6. Tie Everything Up Too Neatly

Your readers aren’t dumb (well… at least not all of them). You can’t just give the end every detail there was, let them establish some things by deduction. This way, you let them feel clever and relate to the story more.

What Are Cliff Hangers and Why Are They Important?

As I introduced it, a cliffhanger is a plot device that ends the narrative without a definitive end (unresolved) and leaves the reader with a lot of suspense.

A cliffhanger can be used to end a short story , chapter of a novel, a movie episode, a movie scene, a play, et cetera.

Usually, cliffhangers are used to keep readers or audiences engaged in the story. If the story is delivered in installments, the prequel usually ends in an exciting cliffhanger so that the audience comes back for the next installment.

Cliff-hanger endings might come in the form of the main character facing peril or a shocking, narrative-changing revelation being introduced right before the story installment concludes.

Tips for Writing Cliffhangers

There are many tips for writing cliffhangers, but here are a few of them:

• Move the resolution to the installment (quite obvious, right?).
• Introduce an event or scene that the reader didn’t anticipate.
• Employ the use of brusque sentences or phrases to cue in some perilous events/scenes.
• Use flashbacks to introduce new bits to the narrative. These bits have to help you leave the reader on tenterhooks.

Ending the ‘How to End a Short Story’ Article

Short fiction doesn’t give you a wide ground to loosen up your writing; everything is in limited supply—character arcs, plotlines, action. Therefore, every sentence should prove to be effective.

Most importantly, the finale has to be some sort of big bang; you have to try your best to give your short story a killer ending. But, I also have to tell you that you don’t have to force lest you should ruin the short story.

Always craft a natural end; neither too realistic nor overly fantastical.  

Recommended Reading...

What is a premise in writing why should you write it first, how to write a good climax (narrative) – professional tips, how does the setting contribute to the story, what is a love square.

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© 2024 When You Write

How to End a Story: 3 Secrets to Writing a Captivating Ending

You’ll find loads of advice to help you find a great novel idea, start writing, and push through what I call the Marathon of the Middle.

But you may not find as much on how to end a story, though that’s every bit important.

Of my more than 200 published books, more than two-thirds have been novels, so I know fiction ideas are easy to come by.

Maybe you have one you’re excited about, but you’re stuck . You’ve been sitting on your great idea for too long. So what’s keeping you from writing your novel? If it’s that you find daunting the idea of landing on and delivering just the right ending, you’ve come to the right place. 

Have you ever wondered why publishers rarely offer contracts and royalty advances to first-time novelists before they see entire manuscripts ?

You may have the best novel idea since Chicken Soup for the Left Behind Amish Vampire . But until you prove you can finish — and I mean close that curtain with a resounding thud — all you’re getting from publishers is Fifty Shades of Wait and See .

• Why Writing a Good Ending Matters

You know your opening should hook readers and your middle should keep them turning pages. Your goal is to get them to an ending that seals the deal.

But how do you write one that turns readers into rabid fans? Your ending simply must prove worthy of the time, money, and loyalty readers have invested in reading your novel. It has to be memorable and emotionally satisfying, tying up all loose ends.

That’s no small task. So how do you ensure your novel doesn’t fizzle out at the end ?

• How to End a Story in 3 Steps
• Keep the End in Sight the Whole Way
• The End Means The End
• Keep Your Hero On Stage

1. Keep the End in Sight the Whole Way

In other words, don’t simply assume something will come to you and will simply work itself out when the time comes.

Whether you’re a meticulous outliner or write by the seat of your pants, have an idea where your plot is going and think about your ending every writing day. How you expect the story to end should inform every scene, every chapter. Sure, it can be flexible. It may change, evolve, and grow as you and your characters experience their inevitable arcs, but never leave it to chance.

And if you get near the end and worry something’s missing — that the punch isn’t there or that it doesn’t live up to the power of the other elements of your book — don’t rush it . Give it a few days, a few weeks if necessary.

Read through everything you’ve written. Take a long walk. Think on it. Sleep on it. Jot notes about it. Let your subconscious work on it. Play what-if games. You want that ending to sing, to become unforgettable.

• Be generous with your readers. They have invested in you and your work the entire way. Give them a proper payoff. Don’t allow it to look rushed by not allowing it to be rushed.
• If it’s a surprise ending — think of movies like The Sixth Sense or The Sting — you still want readers to feel they should have seen it coming — because you planted enough hints — but they will not want to feel hoodwinked.
• Never settle. If you’re not happy with every word, scuttle it until you are.
• If you have too many ideas for how it should end, don’t despair. Just make yourself find the best one. When in doubt, go not for the cleverest or most cerebral. Readers long to be moved. Go for the heart.

Write and rewrite and polish and hone it until you’re happy with every word. Rewrite it until it shines. I’ve long been on record that all writing is rewriting, and this is never more true than at the end of your novel. When do you know it’s been rewritten enough? When you’ve gone from making it better to merely making it different. What makes us authors is being able to choose the best version and committing to it.

Now here’s a nice problem: Maybe you have TOO many ideas for how your novel should end. That’s good news! It shows you’re a creative. Better to have too many ideas than too few. Just be sure to settle on the best one. When in doubt, don’t necessarily go for the cleverest or most cerebral. Readers long to be moved. Settle on an ending that reaches the heart.

2. The End Means the End

Too often writers wind things up and feel the need to add an epilogue . My advice? Try not to do that. I’m not saying there’s never a call for an epilogue — I’ve used them occasionally myself. But as a rule, let your The End mean The End.

Also, too many beginners, I believe, think they appear sophisticated if they leave things nebulous. That might work in literary fiction where the writing itself is the star and the plot is more of a vehicle to show that off. I write for the masses and teach writing for the masses, and if that’s what you want to do, avoid that mistake of feigning sophistication.

Modern readers raised on television and movies appreciate chronology — stories with beginnings, middles, ends. And they expect the end to do its job. Artsy types may think it’s hip to just stop the story with nothing resolved, gassing on talk shows about how life isn’t so tidy.

Well, terrific. I’ve seen enough movies like that, and I can tell you that most people don’t like sitting there shaking their heads as the lights come up. They scowl at each other and say, “Really? That’s it? We’re to wonder what happens now?”

All that does for me is to remind me that as a novelist I have one job, and I recommit myself to doing it again every time. That is to invent a story world and deliver a satisfying experience for my readers. Now, writing a novel with a beginning, a middle, and an end — one that satisfies — doesn’t necessarily mean happily-ever-after, everything tied in a neat bow. But at the very least the reader should learn what happened, have questions answered, things resolved, puzzles solved. And because I happen to have a worldview of hope, my work will reflect that.

If you write from another worldview, at least be consistent. End your stories with how you see life, but don’t simply stop the story. Give it the ending it deserves. 

That said, some stories end too neatly and then appear contrived. If they end too late, you’ve asked your reader to indulge you for too long. Be judicious. In the same way you decide when to enter and leave a scene, carefully determine when to exit your novel.

3. Keep Your Hero on Stage

That may seem obvious, but I’ve seen it violated. Everything your lead character learned while trying to fix the terrible trouble you plunged them into should by now have made them the person who rises to the occasion and wins the day.

Maybe to this point they have been flawed, weak, defeated. But their character arc is about to become complete.

The action must happen on stage, not just be something remembered or simply narrated. Be careful not to inject a miraculous resolution or have something happen because they finally realized something. Sure, things may have finally come together in their mind, but they must act.

THAT’S what makes a reader respond emotionally, and it should move you when you write it. That way you’ll know it will move your readers.

See yourself piloting a commercial airliner. You’ve taken your readers on a long, eventful journey. Now it’s time to bring them in for a satisfying landing.

• 6 Types of Story Endings

The Closed or Resolved Ending

This ties up all the loose ends in your plot and subplots. Your main character and significant supporting characters have grown.

But a resolved ending doesn’t have to be a happy one.

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee: All the storylines come together in the end, giving each character closure.

The Hollow by Agatha Christie: After loads of misdirection throughout the story, the murderer is revealed.

The Open or Unresolved Ending

This is one of the types of endings I personally don’t care for, for reasons I outlined earlier. Some authors merely use unresolved cliffhangers — which I find thoroughly frustrate most readers. If you need to leave questions in readers’ minds, particularly in the case of a book series, wherein you need to give them a reason to buy the next book, there are other ways to accomplish this.

To make sure readers clamor for your next book, don’t use unresolved cliffhangers. Give readers a wholly satisfying end to your book and simply hint at what is coming. That way they’re pleased and eager at the same time.

In my own Left Behind series, the first volume covers a lot of ground — the rapture, people having disappeared, others left to figure out what happened and face the great tribulation. It ends with four significant characters banding together to form what they refer to as the Tribulation Force. That became the title of book 2. Here’s the last paragraph of book 1: “The task of the Tribulation Force was clear and their goal nothing less than to stand and fight the enemies of God during the seven most chaotic years the planet would ever see.”

The Bourne Ultimatum by Robert Ludlum: The final book in this popular series ends in a solid win for good over evil. The main character survives, but we’re left not knowing anything else about his future.

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens: Readers aren’t told much about the future, but the author drops hints that let readers assume both main characters grow to adulthood.

The Ambiguous Ending

Here the conclusion is cryptic at best, but always vague. It leaves readers with questions they can answer for themselves.

Life of Pi by Yann Martel: Readers are left to come up with their own explanation of the story, and if they don’t really want to know which is true, they don’t have to decide.

The Stand by Stephen King: The book version has 2 different endings (and King wrote 3 additional possibilities for the TV adaptation.) The original edited version ties up the character’s stories nicely. The Complete & Uncut Edition includes a darker epilogue, continuing the circle.

The Surprise or Twist Ending

This ending can work for all genres, but especially for mysteries. But take care not to give readers the ending they might expect. Just avoid, as I mentioned earlier, a complete surprise that seems to come out of nowhere. If you opt for a twist , you must plant enough clues so readers at least have to admit they could have seen it coming. 

Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie: This classic includes loads of surprises and a satisfying, although unexpected, resolution for all characters.

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen: The energy for this conclusion builds to a climax in a dramatic circus performance and the anticipation of romance.

The Closed Circle

This one ties your conclusion back to where you started, often revisiting the opening scene or even the first line, but naturally now with a whole novel worth of added context.

The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende: The novel’s last line is the same as its first line.

The Dark Tower series by Stephen King: This ending also circles back to the first sentence, “The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”

The Expanded Ending, a.k.a., the Epilogue

This is the ending I personally wish you’d avoid.

With this approach, after evil is defeated and the main story winds down, readers get a glimpse into the characters’ future.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling: The series wraps by answering the unspoken question in everyone’s mind — does Harry finally find a peaceful life?

Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins: The epilogue in Collins’s series fast-forwards several years to end on a hopeful note.

And I suppose if you can write as well as JK Rowling and Suzanne Collins, you can feel free to try an epilogue.

Though I’ve made my preferences clear, that’s all they are: personal opinions reflecting my own taste.

• Final Considerations When Ending A Story

End your book in any of the ways we’ve discussed. Experiment. Have fun. Write what you’d read. 

Remember to read dozens of books in your genre so you’re familiar with its conventions and expectations.

Finally, consider the emotional impact you want to leave your readers with:

• In a sweet ending, characters get both what they want and what they need.
• A semi-sweet ending delivers only what your characters need.
• A bittersweet ending gives them only what they want.
• In a bitter ending, characters get neither.

Stephen King says that in real life, endings aren’t always neat, whether happy or sad.”

Just endeavor to write an ending that makes readers beg for your next book.

For more tips, check out my 12-step guide on How to Write a Novel .

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• Scriptwriting

How to End a Story — Different Types of Story Endings Explained

H uman beings have been telling stories for as long as we have roamed this Earth. Storytelling has gone from oral tradition to a natural part of the cinematic landscape. And in-between it all, we have learned how to end a story. Throughout our years telling stories, we have learned that there are ultimately four ways to end one. We will be going over each of these four ending types and explaining their characteristics for knowing how to end your screenplay. Let’s begin at the beginnings before we end with the endings! 

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How to End a Story

Four endings & "want" vs "need".

How will your story end? If you want to know how to end a story, you have to know the hero’s “want” and “need.”

A “want” is an external desire that the hero is fully aware of. This external want is what will, at least initially, drive the plot. That want could be any number of things — a trophy, a bank heist, saving the world, and so much more.

A “need” is an internal desire that the hero is not aware of, but ends up driving them through their character arc. And unlike an external want, an internal need is much more relatable to audiences, as these needs are usually universal in nature. Needs can include learning to value friendship over money, accepting love from others, or realizing what really matters by the story's end.

The four ending types that we will be looking at involve combining and mixing the wants and needs of the heroes. These specifically are endings where the protagonist gets:

• what they want and need ( sweet )
• neither ( bitter )
• only what they need ( semi-sweet )
• only what they want ( bittersweet )

For our examples, we will utilize StudioBinder’s screenwriting software for script excerpts. This also makes it easier for you to read a script excerpt here, along with accessing the whole script to better understand how to end a story. In this way, you will have the clearest view of how to end your screenplay with one of the four endings.

So, without further ado, let’s get right to it.

How to End Your Story

The sweet ending.

We start our journey with the sweet ending, which is where the hero gets what they want along with what they need. And there are not many examples much sweeter than Back to the Future .

How to End a Story  •   Subscribe on YouTube

In the film, Marty McFly wants to be a rock star, but he lacks the proper confidence to make it work. This is fueled by his father George, who is completely lacking in confidence (or self-worth). So Marty’s need is to be the opposite of his father, while also achieving his want of  being a rock star.

However, Marty’s wants and needs change when he is sent from 1985 to 1955. He accidentally takes his dad’s place when he meets his mom and now he’s at risk of being erased from existence. Luckily, Marty succeeds in upping his dad’s confidence and getting his parents to fall in love.

Additionally, he’s able to realize his initial want of being a rock star at the Enchantment Under the Sea dance.

How to End a Screenplay  •   Read the script here

A sweet ending like this, where the hero archives his wants and needs, can be hard to pull off. But if Marty hadn’t gone back in time in the first place, the ending would never have happened. What’s more, against all odds, he, along with Doc Brown’s help, got his parents back together and was able to get back to his own time.

If the screenwriters had trouble knowing how to end a script, Marty might have succeeded through dumb luck or by doing nothing himself, and these are not the best ways to end a story.

For more, including a complete breakdown, read the entire screenplay for Back to the Future .

How Do You End a Story

The bitter ending.

So how will your story end when the hero gets neither what they want or what they need? In that case, you get a bitter ending, which is exemplified wonderfully in Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo's adaptation of Puzo’s The Godfather .

In The Godfather , Michael Corleone does not want to be like his family. He may be at his sister’s wedding, but he lets his girlfriend Kay know that the business his family deals in does not represent who he is or who he wants to be. For Michael, his want is to live a normal, legitimate life.

However, once Michael hears about his father’s assasination, his want changes from “live a normal life” to “revenge.” His need, however, remains unchanged: he needs to remain a good person, to avoid the darkness that comes from living the life of a crime boss.

However, due to his drive for revenge, Michael kick starts his downward spiral into darkness. He kills the men who tried to kill his father and later he takes over the family business.

By the final scene in the film, we know Michael is forever changed. For no matter how much he may have tried, Michael chose to be part of the life he so vigorously opposed. And in the end, he achieves neither his want nor his need.

How to End a Script  •   Read the scene here

It’s important to know that a bitter ending is also a tragic one, which is how to end a script like The Godfather’s . And in a great tragedy, the hero makes it to their bitter end all on their own. If the bitter end happens out of nowhere, or because of outside influences, it can feel cheap, as they are bad ways to end a story. Other potentially bad ways to end a story are if the negative actions of the hero lead to a sweet ending or if they succeed in some positive way.

For more, including a complete breakdown, read the entire  screenplay for The Godfather .

The Semi-Sweet Ending

The semi-sweet ending is one of the most common endings used. It’s when the hero gets what they need, but not what they want, often through a positive change character arc. So, if you want to know how to end a script semi-sweetly, look no further than Rain Man .

How to End a Story  •  Rain Man

Rain Man is the story of Charlie Babbitt, a man whose only concern when his dad dies is to get his inheritance. Charlie’s want is as clear as day, but someone stands in his way: his long-lost brother, Raymond — the beneficiary. Charlie then “kidnaps” Raymond to ensure that he gets his share of the inheritance.

However, over the course of the movie, Charlie’s want makes way for his emerging need: to reconnect with his family. He learns to understand Raymond as a person and this helps heal deep wounds tied to Charlie's relationship with their father. In the end, Charlie rejects the money.

How to End a Screenplay  •   Read the scene here

Additionally, Charlie sacrificing his want of inheritance for the need to keep Raymond as his brother (and as a family connection) is a strong example of positive character development. This is the primary reason the semi-sweet ending is so common, as it provides the most opportunity for a character to positively change over the course of a story. Strong character development is thus one of the great ways to end a story.

The Bittersweet Ending

Our last ending is the bittersweet, when the hero gets what they want, but not what they need. As the name might suggest, it’s just behind “bitter” for the lowest ending a story can have. Even when it looks like the hero has won, the hero themselves has to wonder if it was worth it.

So how will your story end if it’s bittersweet? Let’s take a look at the ending of Paul Thomas Anderson ’s There Will Be Blood . 

If you’re familiar with the ending, you may be thinking: what on earth is sweet about this ending? True, it’s more bitter than sweet, but let’s think about the definition we’ve laid out. Daniel’s goal from the outset of the film was to become exorbitantly rich.

By the end of the runtime, Daniel has achieved his goal: he is exorbitantly rich. Let’s look at how Anderson begins the final scene of the film:

How to End a Screenplay  •  Read the script here

Anderson emphasizes just how wealthy Daniel has become, describing his home as a mansion, and detailing the bowling alley as a “very large party area” within the “Plainview Estate.”

So Daniel got what he wanted. But Anderson is just as quick to point out that he didn’t get what he needed: “There are empty liquor bottles around… signs of a mess/booze/trouble.”

Daniel’s in bad shape, and it’s because he sold his soul for a profit. It’s only natural that when his nemesis, Eli, arrives, he has no patience for him

It can be hard knowing how to end a story, as endings are sometimes the hardest part of a story to write. But knowing these four ways to end a story can help ensure that you not only know how to end a story, but that your ending pays off. Making sure character actions are consistent, that plot details get followed up on, and that things come together in a meaningful way will ensure your ending, and ultimately story, have the intended effect.

Choose your ending and construct a perfectly matched character arc with our FREE downloadable and interactive worksheet below.

Free downloadable bonus

Free download , character arc + 4 endings worksheet.

Download this interactive worksheet to help guide both your character's arc and the type of ending you're aiming for. By laying out the Wants and Needs of your character in advance, you'll be able to construct a character arc and ending that are perfectly matched and ultimately satisfying.

Character Archetypes

Now that we’ve gone over how to end a story, let’s get into the types of characters who populate these stories. Our article defines what an archetype is while providing you with in-depth examples from both cinema and television, all of which can help you to better understand how to end your screenplay.

Up Next: Character Archetypes →

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How to Write Satisfying Story Endings

• Cinderella wants to go to the ball -- but her stepmother wants to keep her scrubbing floors at home.
• Rosa loves John. But John is in love with Amy.

Story Endings - Exercise

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• Will one of them win? Or will both of them lose? will one of them simply decide to give in?
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Story Endings - Next Steps

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Story Endings – Exercises for Writers

Using story endings to start your story..

There is no rule that says you must always start work at the beginning of a story.

Some writers enjoy rewinding a story – working backwards from the end until they arrive at a beginning.

As always there are no limits on creativity.

These exercises are designed to be deliberately ambiguous so they allow you the freedom to follow your imagination wherever it may lead.

Try using these story endings as though they were beginnings and experiment as much as you want.

STORY ENDINGS

She knew they weren’t coming back. they all knew. nobody could change that now and nobody wanted to., the last stone fell to the ground. he wiped his hand on his trousers and smiled., it had been worth it. at least that was something., the catch on the window still stuck. the door still creaked. she no longer cared. they had saved her., forbidden she thought. what did they know – if they thought words could stop her, finally, it seemed to rise. up, over and beyond. she resisted the urge to wave. to acknowledge them was to make them real. she had never wanted that., water flowed down the hills, winding its way. it went to find the river to join it and then find the sea. the sea was where it would end., he never wanted to hear that word again. it had brought him here and kept him here. he would never be free as long as that word was spoken. now there was nobody left to speak and he was free., sands shifted and blew. the rings around the trees looked dark., she followed the sound of the radio to its source and pulled the plug. she had no need of news now. she knew what was happening..

I hope these endings worked for you! If you are beginning your writing journey I strongly recommend you read this page.

Best of luck with your writing.

P.S. All these exercises are free for you. If this was helpful to you it would be great if you would please like, share or comment to help spread the word.

PRACTICAL CREATIVE WRITING EXERCISES

You won’t be able to stop writing when you try these beautiful and inspiring exercises., banish your writing block right now., never be stuck again,   get ebook from amazon.com ,  get ebook from amazon.co.uk,   get paperback from amazon.com, get paperback from amazon.co.uk, get from smashwords, share this:, no comments yet., leave a reply click here to cancel reply..

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The short story is a fiction writer’s laboratory: here is where you can experiment with characters, plots, and ideas without the heavy lifting of writing a novel. Learning how to write a short story is essential to mastering the art of storytelling . With far fewer words to worry about, storytellers can make many more mistakes—and strokes of genius!—through experimentation and the fun of fiction writing.

Nonetheless, the art of writing short stories is not easy to master. How do you tell a complete story in so few words? What does a story need to have in order to be successful? Whether you’re struggling with how to write a short story outline, or how to fully develop a character in so few words, this guide is your starting point.

Famous authors like Virginia Woolf, Haruki Murakami, and Agatha Christie have used the short story form to play with ideas before turning those stories into novels. Whether you want to master the elements of fiction, experiment with novel ideas, or simply have fun with storytelling, here’s everything you need on how to write a short story step by step.

How to Write a Short Story: Contents

The Core Elements of a Short Story

How to write a short story outline, how to write a short story step by step, how to write a short story: length and setting, how to write a short story: point of view, how to write a short story: protagonist, antagonist, motivation, how to write a short story: characters, how to write a short story: prose, how to write a short story: story structure, how to write a short story: capturing reader interest, where to read and submit short stories.

There’s no secret formula to writing a short story. However, a good short story will have most or all of the following elements:

• A protagonist with a certain desire or need. It is essential for the protagonist to want something they don’t have, otherwise they will not drive the story forward.
• A clear dilemma. We don’t need much backstory to see how the dilemma started; we’re primarily concerned with how the protagonist resolves it.
• A decision. What does the protagonist do to resolve their dilemma?
• A climax. In Freytag’s Pyramid , the climax of a story is when the tension reaches its peak, and the reader discovers the outcome of the protagonist’s decision(s).
• An outcome. How does the climax change the protagonist? Are they a different person? Do they have a different philosophy or outlook on life?

Of course, short stories also utilize the elements of fiction , such as a setting , plot , and point of view . It helps to study these elements and to understand their intricacies. But, when it comes to laying down the skeleton of a short story, the above elements are what you need to get started.

Note: a short story rarely, if ever, has subplots. The focus should be entirely on a single, central storyline. Subplots will either pull focus away from the main story, or else push the story into the territory of novellas and novels.

The shorter the story is, the fewer of these elements are essentials. If you’re interested in writing short-short stories, check out our guide on how to write flash fiction .

Some writers are “pantsers”—they “write by the seat of their pants,” making things up on the go with little more than an idea for a story. Other writers are “plotters,” meaning they decide the story’s structure in advance of writing it.

You don’t need a short story outline to write a good short story. But, if you’d like to give yourself some scaffolding before putting words on the page, this article answers the question of how to write a short story outline:

https://writers.com/how-to-write-a-story-outline

There are many ways to approach the short story craft, but this method is tried-and-tested for writers of all levels. Here’s how to write a short story step-by-step.

1. Start With an Idea

Often, generating an idea is the hardest part. You want to write, but what will you write about?

What’s more, it’s easy to start coming up with ideas and then dismissing them. You want to tell an authentic, original story, but everything you come up with has already been written, it seems.

Here are a few tips:

• Originality presents itself in your storytelling, not in your ideas. For example, the premise of both Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Ostrovsky’s The Snow Maiden are very similar: two men and two women, in intertwining love triangles, sort out their feelings for each other amidst mischievous forest spirits, love potions, and friendship drama. The way each story is written makes them very distinct from one another, to the point where, unless it’s pointed out to you, you might not even notice the similarities.
• An idea is not a final draft. You will find that exploring the possibilities of your story will generate something far different than the idea you started out with. This is a good thing—it means you made the story your own!
• Experiment with genres and tropes. Even if you want to write literary fiction , pay attention to the narrative structures that drive genre stories, and practice your storytelling using those structures. Again, you will naturally make the story your own simply by playing with ideas.

If you’re struggling simply to find ideas, try out this prompt generator , or pull prompts from this Twitter .

2. Outline, OR Conceive Your Characters

If you plan to outline, do so once you’ve generated an idea. You can learn about how to write a short story outline earlier in this article.

If you don’t plan to outline, you should at least start with a character or characters. Certainly, you need a protagonist, but you should also think about any characters that aid or inhibit your protagonist’s journey.

When thinking about character development, ask the following questions:

• What is my character’s background? Where do they come from, how did they get here, where do they want to be?
• What does your character desire the most? This can be both material or conceptual, like “fitting in” or “being loved.”
• What is your character’s fatal flaw? In other words, what limitation prevents the protagonist from achieving their desire? Often, this flaw is a blind spot that directly counters their desire. For example, self hatred stands in the way of a protagonist searching for love.
• How does your character think and speak? Think of examples, both fictional and in the real world, who might resemble your character.

In short stories, there are rarely more characters than a protagonist, an antagonist (if relevant), and a small group of supporting characters. The more characters you include, the longer your story will be. Focus on making only one or two characters complex: it is absolutely okay to have the rest of the cast be flat characters that move the story along.

Learn more about character development here:

https://writers.com/character-development-definition

3. Write Scenes Around Conflict

Once you have an outline or some characters, start building scenes around conflict. Every part of your story, including the opening sentence, should in some way relate to the protagonist’s conflict.

Conflict is the lifeblood of storytelling: without it, the reader doesn’t have a clear reason to keep reading. Loveable characters are not enough, as the story has to give the reader something to root for.

Take, for example, Edgar Allan Poe’s classic short story The Cask of Amontillado . We start at the conflict: the narrator has been slighted by Fortunato, and plans to exact revenge. Every scene in the story builds tension and follows the protagonist as he exacts this revenge.

In your story, start writing scenes around conflict, and make sure each paragraph and piece of dialogue relates, in some way, to your protagonist’s unmet desires.

Read more about writing effective conflict here:

What is Conflict in a Story? Definition and Examples

4. Write Your First Draft

The scenes you build around conflict will eventually be stitched into a complete story. Make sure as the story progresses that each scene heightens the story’s tension, and that this tension remains unbroken until the climax resolves whether or not your protagonist meets their desires.

Don’t stress too hard on writing a perfect story. Rather, take Anne Lamott’s advice, and “write a shitty first draft.” The goal is not to pen a complete story at first draft; rather, it’s to set ideas down on paper. You are simply, as Shannon Hale suggests, “shoveling sand into a box so that later [you] can build castles.”

5. Step Away, Breathe, Revise

Whenever Stephen King finishes a novel, he puts it in a drawer and doesn’t think about it for 6 weeks. With short stories, you probably don’t need to take as long of a break. But, the idea itself is true: when you’ve finished your first draft, set it aside for a while. Let yourself come back to the story with fresh eyes, so that you can confidently revise, revise, revise .

In revision, you want to make sure each word has an essential place in the story, that each scene ramps up tension, and that each character is clearly defined. The culmination of these elements allows a story to explore complex themes and ideas, giving the reader something to think about after the story has ended.

6. Compare Against Our Short Story Checklist

Does your story have everything it needs to succeed? Compare it against this short story checklist, as written by our instructor Rosemary Tantra Bensko.

Below is a collection of practical short story writing tips by Writers.com instructor Rosemary Tantra Bensko . Each paragraph is its own checklist item: a core element of short story writing advice to follow unless you have clear reasons to the contrary. We hope it’s a helpful resource in your own writing.

Update 9/1/2020: We’ve now made a summary of Rosemary’s short story checklist available as a PDF download . Enjoy!

Click to download

Your short story is 1000 to 7500 words in length.

The story takes place in one time period, not spread out or with gaps other than to drive someplace, sleep, etc. If there are those gaps, there is a space between the paragraphs, the new paragraph beginning flush left, to indicate a new scene.

Each scene takes place in one location, or in continual transit, such as driving a truck or flying in a plane.

Unless it’s a very lengthy Romance story, in which there may be two Point of View (POV) characters, there is one POV character. If we are told what any character secretly thinks, it will only be the POV character. The degree to which we are privy to the unexpressed thoughts, memories and hopes of the POV character remains consistent throughout the story.

You avoid head-hopping by only having one POV character per scene, even in a Romance. You avoid straying into even brief moments of telling us what other characters think other than the POV character. You use words like “apparently,” “obviously,” or “supposedly” to suggest how non-POV-characters think rather than stating it.

Your short story has one clear protagonist who is usually the character changing most.

Your story has a clear antagonist, who generally makes the protagonist change by thwarting his goals.

(Possible exception to the two short story writing tips above: In some types of Mystery and Action stories, particularly in a series, etc., the protagonist doesn’t necessarily grow personally, but instead his change relates to understanding the antagonist enough to arrest or kill him.)

The protagonist changes with an Arc arising out of how he is stuck in his Flaw at the beginning of the story, which makes the reader bond with him as a human, and feel the pain of his problems he causes himself. (Or if it’s the non-personal growth type plot: he’s presented at the beginning of the story with a high-stakes problem that requires him to prevent or punish a crime.)

The protagonist usually is shown to Want something, because that’s what people normally do, defining their personalities and behavior patterns, pushing them onward from day to day. This may be obvious from the beginning of the story, though it may not become heightened until the Inciting Incident , which happens near the beginning of Act 1. The Want is usually something the reader sort of wants the character to succeed in, while at the same time, knows the Want is not in his authentic best interests. This mixed feeling in the reader creates tension.

The protagonist is usually shown to Need something valid and beneficial, but at first, he doesn’t recognize it, admit it, honor it, integrate it with his Want, or let the Want go so he can achieve the Need instead. Ideally, the Want and Need can be combined in a satisfying way toward the end for the sake of continuity of forward momentum of victoriously achieving the goals set out from the beginning. It’s the encounters with the antagonist that forcibly teach the protagonist to prioritize his Needs correctly and overcome his Flaw so he can defeat the obstacles put in his path.

The protagonist in a personal growth plot needs to change his Flaw/Want but like most people, doesn’t automatically do that when faced with the problem. He tries the easy way, which doesn’t work. Only when the Crisis takes him to a low point does he boldly change enough to become victorious over himself and the external situation. What he learns becomes the Theme.

Each scene shows its main character’s goal at its beginning, which aligns in a significant way with the protagonist’s overall goal for the story. The scene has a “charge,” showing either progress toward the goal or regression away from the goal by the ending. Most scenes end with a negative charge, because a story is about not obtaining one’s goals easily, until the end, in which the scene/s end with a positive charge.

The protagonist’s goal of the story becomes triggered until the Inciting Incident near the beginning, when something happens to shake up his life. This is the only major thing in the story that is allowed to be a random event that occurs to him.

Your characters speak differently from one another, and their dialogue suggests subtext, what they are really thinking but not saying: subtle passive-aggressive jibes, their underlying emotions, etc.

Your characters are not illustrative of ideas and beliefs you are pushing for, but come across as real people.

Your language is succinct, fresh and exciting, specific, colorful, avoiding clichés and platitudes. Sentence structures vary. In Genre stories, the language is simple, the symbolism is direct, and words are well-known, and sentences are relatively short. In Literary stories , you are freer to use more sophisticated ideas, words, sentence structures, styles , and underlying metaphors and implied motifs.

Your plot elements occur in the proper places according to classical Three Act Structure (or Freytag’s Pyramid ) so the reader feels he has vicariously gone through a harrowing trial with the protagonist and won, raising his sense of hope and possibility. Literary short stories may be more subtle, with lower stakes, experimenting beyond classical structures like the Hero’s Journey. They can be more like vignettes sometimes, or even slice-of-life, though these types are hard to place in publications.

In Genre stories, all the questions are answered, threads are tied up, problems are solved, though the results of carnage may be spread over the landscape. In Literary short stories, you are free to explore uncertainty, ambiguity, and inchoate, realistic endings that suggest multiple interpretations, and unresolved issues.

Some Literary stories may be nonrealistic, such as with Surrealism, Absurdism, New Wave Fabulism, Weird and Magical Realism . If this is what you write, they still need their own internal logic and they should not be bewildering as to the what the reader is meant to experience, whether it’s a nuanced, unnameable mood or a trip into the subconscious.

Literary stories may also go beyond any label other than Experimental. For example, a story could be a list of To Do items on a paper held by a magnet to a refrigerator for the housemate to read. The person writing the list may grow more passive-aggressive and manipulative as the list grows, and we learn about the relationship between the housemates through the implied threats and cajoling.

Your short story is suspenseful, meaning readers hope the protagonist will achieve his best goal, his Need, by the Climax battle against the antagonist.

Your story entertains. This is especially necessary for Genre short stories.

The story captivates readers at the very beginning with a Hook, which can be a puzzling mystery to solve, an amazing character’s or narrator’s Voice, an astounding location, humor, a startling image, or a world the reader wants to become immersed in.

Expository prose (telling, like an essay) takes up very, very little space in your short story, and it does not appear near the beginning. The story is in Narrative format instead, in which one action follows the next. You’ve removed every unnecessary instance of Expository prose and replaced it with showing Narrative. Distancing words like “used to,” “he would often,” “over the years, he,” “each morning, he” indicate that you are reporting on a lengthy time period, summing it up, rather than sticking to Narrative format, in which immediacy makes the story engaging.

You’ve earned the right to include Expository Backstory by making the reader yearn for knowing what happened in the past to solve a mystery. This can’t possibly happen at the beginning, obviously. Expository Backstory does not take place in the first pages of your story.

Your reader cares what happens and there are high stakes (especially important in Genre stories). Your reader worries until the end, when the protagonist survives, succeeds in his quest to help the community, gets the girl, solves or prevents the crime, achieves new scientific developments, takes over rule of his realm, etc.

Every sentence is compelling enough to urge the reader to read the next one—because he really, really wants to—instead of doing something else he could be doing. Your story is not going to be assigned to people to analyze in school like the ones you studied, so you have found a way from the beginning to intrigue strangers to want to spend their time with your words.

Whether you’re looking for inspiration or want to publish your own stories, you’ll find great literary journals for writers of all backgrounds at this article:

https://writers.com/short-story-submissions

Learn How to Write a Short Story at Writers.com

The short story takes an hour to learn and a lifetime to master. Learn how to write a short story with Writers.com. Our upcoming fiction courses will give you the ropes to tell authentic, original short stories that captivate and entrance your readers.

Rosemary – Is there any chance you could add a little something to your checklist? I’d love to know the best places to submit our short stories for publication. Thanks so much.

Hi, Kim Hanson,

Some good places to find publications specific to your story are NewPages, Poets and Writers, Duotrope, and The Submission Grinder.

“ In Genre stories, all the questions are answered, threads are tied up, problems are solved, though the results of carnage may be spread over the landscape.”

Not just no but NO.

See for example the work of MacArthur Fellow Kelly Link.

[…] How to Write a Short Story: The Short Story Checklist […]

Thank you for these directions and tips. It’s very encouraging to someone like me, just NOW taking up writing.

[…] Writers.com. A great intro to writing. https://writers.com/how-to-write-a-short-story […]

Hello: I started to write seriously in the late 70’s. I loved to write in High School in the early 60’s but life got in the way. Around the 00’s many of the obstacles disappeared. Since then I have been writing more, and some of my work was vanilla transgender stories. Here in 2024 transgender stories have become tiresome because I really don’t have much in common with that mind set.

The glare of an editor that could potentially pay me is quite daunting, so I would like to start out unpaid to see where that goes. I am not sure if a writer’s agent would be a good fit for me. My work life was in the Trades, not as some sort of Academic. That alone causes timidity, but I did read about a fiction writer who had been a house painter.

This is my first effort to publish since the late 70’s. My pseudonym would perhaps include Ahabidah.

Gwen Boucher.

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Transform Story Endings Overnight with These Simple Teaching Techniques

Helly Douglas

How often have you read a wonderful piece of student writing, only to be bitterly disappointed at the end? 'It was all a dream!', 'Everyone died!', 'They lived happily ever after!' A poor ending can make or break the entire story.

Students are so keen to start writing that an effective ending is often overlooked during the planning phase. They want to leap in and worry about the ending when they get there.

And when they do reach the point of finishing, all too often they fall into the familiar endings of fairy tales or disaster films. Either everyone’s happy, or they all die!

So how can you teach your students the value of an effective story ending?

The Importance of Endings

7 types of story ending, simple ways to generate story endings, final thoughts.

Why do we read a novel? To get to the ending, to find out what happened. How the book finishes is as important as the main hook of the story.

You’ve probably experienced the disappointment that a poor ending brings. A great piece is ruined by a thoughtless or rushed finish. A poor ending disappoints, a good one leaves you wanting more.

An ideal ending, has a purpose, is planned, and links back to the beginning of the story. The protagonist is changed in some fundamental way in their journey through the narrative.

No one agrees on how many types of story ending there are, and there’s always exceptions to the rule. Many writers have attempted to organize them into archetypal groups. Your students could draw up their own list.

Most stories can be grouped according to what happens to the main character:

• They get what they want and feel happy or disappointed
• They don’t get what they want and end up happy or disappointed
• They realize they didn’t want what they thought they wanted in the first place

Here are six common story endings that can be found in countless novels and short stories. Your students can suggest examples of books they’ve enjoyed that fit into each one.

1: A Resolved Ending

‘They lived happily ever after,’ remains the archetype of this story ending. Every problem overcome; no questions left unanswered. Most familiar fairy stories and traditional tales have a resolved ending.

Crime thrillers and detective fiction finish in a similar way. They locate the murderer, solve the crime, and bring the perpetrator to justice. It creates a satisfying conclusion for readers trying to work out a mystery. Think of a denouement by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes or Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot as the perfect example of a resolved ending.

But don’t think that the finish has to be happy or satisfying. Tragedies such as William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet have a resolved ending that leaves nobody happy at the end. The protagonist may end up better or worse off at the conclusion.

2: An Unresolved Ending

Leaving a mystery at the end of a novel is commonly used before writing a sequel. Series of books such as J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter use cliff-hangers to get readers buying the next copy. Whilst smaller plotlines are explained, a larger mystery is left open.

Stand-alone novels also use unresolved endings to leave the reader guessing about the conclusion. Characters such as Scarlett O’Hara in Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind dream of a happy ending, but the reader is left wondering if could ever be possible.

3: An Implied Ending

A clever author can use an implied ending to allow different readings of the story. Does the character die? Will they make it home? Do they stay with their lover?

Open-ended conclusions offer a range of logical possibilities with no definite answer. Life of Pi by Yann Martel is a great example of this.

4: A Twist in the Plot

A shocking twist can leave a reader wondering about everything they thought they knew. Novels like Atonement by Ian McEwan surprise you with an unexpected ending. And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie includes a plot twist just when you think you know who the murderer is.

5: A Tie-back (Frame Story)

Some stories start with the ending. Each part then explains how the characters got there. A famous example is Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, which begins with finding Victor Frankenstein floating on ice and near to death. A series of letters reveal his tragic story.

6: Looking Forward

Future stories skip forward in time to reveal what happens next. Examples of this include The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins and Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling. Both finish with an epilogue set in the future.

The easiest way to get your students writing better endings is to focus on them in lessons. Make time to look at endings before they plan their own. Create a bank of ideas for them to use.

If you’re struggling to get your class writing endings, here are ideas to help:

• Sort famous stories by their endings to spot commonalities
• Re-write the ending of a famous tale
• Look at examples of poor endings
• Match endings to genre types
• Generate banks of ideas for endings
• Ask ‘what if?’ questions to create alternative ideas

Students won’t know what a good ending is unless they encounter lots of them. This highlights the importance of whole class reading. Remember it’s not just younger children who benefit from hearing stories read aloud.

Reading short fiction with your class is a simple way to help them see the ending and how it links to rest of the story. Because it's short, it doesn’t take too long to get there. Focus on the protagonist. What has changed for them? How have they developed? What problem have they overcome or embraced?

Consider flipping the traditional order of teaching narrative writing. There’s no rule saying you must start at the beginning.

Try these alternatives:

• Start with writing the ending and work backwards
• Give them most of a story and make them write the ending
• Write the beginning and end paragraphs first and then plan how they will get there
• Give them the ending and let them write the rest

Working in pairs or small groups can take the fear away from generating ideas. Let your class share their first suggestions, then encourage them to be creative and push their ideas further.

We’re all guilty of running out of time and having to abandon the last few lessons in a unit. Good endings are reliant on enough time to plan and write them. You may need to change how you structure your narrative units.

Students can become tired of their work by the end. Try interleaving two units of work to keep their enthusiasm going and increase how much they remember .

A good story ending is a pleasure to read, like dessert after a great dinner. If your students are continually writing the same poor endings, now is a great time to make them your writing focus.

Want to use ProWritingAid with your classroom? Download this free book now:

ProWritingAid Teacher's Manual

Editing technology like prowritingaid provides immediate, personalized feedback that will help students to better understand grammar and writing techniques., in this guide , we walk you through exactly how to use prowritingaid in your classroom and give you tools and templates for creating a rigorous, effective independent writing practice with your students..

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Helly Douglas is a UK writer and teacher, specialising in education, children, and parenting. She loves making the complex seem simple through blogs, articles, and curriculum content. You can check out her work at hellydouglas.com or connect on Twitter @hellydouglas. When she’s not writing, you will find her in a classroom, being a mum or battling against the wilderness of her garden—the garden is winning!

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How to Start a Story: 10 Ways to Get Your Story Off to a Great Start

by Joslyn Chase | 0 comments

Perhaps you’ve heard the old publishing proverb: The first page sells the book; the last page sells the next book. I’m convinced there’s a mammoth grain of truth in that. The beginning and the end of any story are critical elements that you really want to nail. Today, we’re going to focus on how to start a story—in other words, how you can craft a spectacular beginning that will hold readers spellbound and get them to turn that first all-important page.

Whether you’re pitching to an agent, a publisher, or direct to the reader, your opening lines form the basis for how they’ll judge the rest of your story. You have about a sixty-second window of influence before that initial judgment solidifies. It follows that this is a good place to invest your time and effort.

Granted, a compelling opening is not an easy task to accomplish. Besides grabbing the reader's attention, you want to ground readers in a setting, establish voice, hint at theme, and introduce a protagonist readers can get behind. To do this, you need to answer specific questions for your reader, while at the same time planting others.

Story Revolves Around Questions

Cultivating questions for your reader is what keeps them turning the pages, but you’ll lose them if you don’t provide answers, as well. If you want your reader to commit to your story, it’s best to establish a few essentials right up front.

• Whose story is it? You’re asking your reader to spend serious time with your protagonist. They’ll want to know who they’ll be rooting for.
• What kind of story is it? Readers go into a book looking for a particular type of reading experience and you need to let them know they’ve come to the right place.
• When and where is the story happening? Setting is hugely important to selling your reader. I did a workshop with top editor Kristine Kathryn Rusch, and one of the most frequent critiques she gave writers was: “There’s no setting. You lost me on setting.”
• What’s the story behind the story? When readers think story, they think plot. Writers know the real story is internal—not what happens, but how those events affect the characters. While you won’t necessarily lay your hero open on the first page of your story, hinting at his internal struggle gets the reader on his side.
• Why should the reader care? The most glorious descriptions or action-packed drama won’t hook your reader if you don’t give them a reason to care about your character. Answering the four questions above will help do this, but you’ll need to give more.

10 Compelling Ways to Start a Story

You’ve got to command reader attention and answer some important questions, but what does that look like on the page? How do you structure your opening to accomplish those objectives?

Have you heard of modeling? Life coaches and success gurus talk about it a lot. It involves finding someone who’s wildly effective at doing what you want to do and studying their methods to duplicate their success. If in doubt, go to the opening pages of bestselling books in your chosen genre and see how the masters did it.

Beyond that, there are so many ways to go. Here are ten ways to start a story you might consider:

1. Strong Voice

Example: “Mae Mobley was born on a early Sunday morning in August 1960. A church baby we like to call it. Taking care a white babies, that’s what I do, along with all the cooking and the cleaning. I done raised seventeen kids in my lifetime. I know how to get them babies to sleep, stop crying, and go in the toilet bowl before they mamas even get out a bed in the morning.” The Help, Kathryn Stockett

Example: “I smiled when I saw the dead girl. Just for a moment. Reflex, I suppose.” The Snow Angel, Doug Allyn

2. Relevant Anecdote

Example: “When Ella Brady was six she went to Quentins. It was the first time anyone had called her Madam. A woman in a black dress with a lace collar had led them to the table. She had settled Ella’s parents in and then held out a chair for the six-year-old. ‘You might like to sit here, Madam, it will give you a full view of everything,’ she said. Ella was delighted.” Quentins, Maeve Binchy

Example: “I hope this video camera works. Anyway, this (click) is a blowup of a model’s eye, the bluest I’ve ever seen. The only other time I remember seeing that exact color of blue was the day my sister Nicole drowned. It was everwhere: in the water, in the sky, Nicole’s skin. Blue, I remember, and coughing.” Forgetting The Girl, Peter Moore Smith

3. Intriguing Mystery

Example: “Who am I? And how, I wonder, will this story end?” The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks

Example: “People’s lives—their real lives, as opposed to their simple physical existences—begin at different times. The real life of Thad Beaumont, a young boy who was born and raised in the Ridgeway section of Bergenfield, New Jersey, began in 1960. Two things happened to him that year. The first shaped his life; the second almost ended it.” The Dark Half, Stephen King

4. Uneasy Suspense

Example: “The smell of newly rotting flesh hit Jakaya Makinda. He stopped his Land Rover, grabbed his binoculars off the seat beside him, and trained them in the direction of the odor’s source.” Death in the Serengeti , David H. Hendrickson

I used this as an example of Uneasy Suspense, but Hendrickson kicked it off with a startling first sentence and infused it with setting, layering the effect.

Example: “Water gushed out of the corroded faucet into the chipped, porcelain tub, pooling at the bottom with a few tangled strands of long, brown hair. The water was easily 120 degrees. So hot that Katelyn Berkley could hardly stand to dip her painted green toenails into it. The scalding water instantly turned her pale skin mottled shades of crimson.” Envy, Gregg Olsen

5. Stirring Theme

Example: “I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out.” The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini

I used this excerpt as an example of stirring theme, but it is bursting with other elements and could be placed under setting, suspense, voice, character, world tilting off-center, and an enthralling first sentence.

Example: “Sometimes it’s overwhelming: the burden of knowing that the man you most admire isn’t real. Then the depression that you’ve fought all your life creeps in, the anxiety. The borders of your life contract, stifling, suffocating.” The Adventure of the Laughing Fisherman, Jeffery Deaver

This one’s got a pretty kicking first sentence, too.

6. Dynamic Setting

Example: “Out of a cloudless sky on a windless November day came a sudden shadow that swooped across the bright aqua Corvette. Tommy Phan was standing beside the car, in pleasantly warm autumn sunshine, holding out his hand to accept the keys from Jim Shine, the salesman, when the fleeting shade touched him. He heard a brief thrumming like frantic wings. Glancing up, he expected to glimpse a sea gull, but not a single bird was in sight.” Tick Tock, Dean Koontz

This is also a nice instance of uneasy suspense.

Example: “They were parked on Union, in front of her place, their knees locked in conference around the stick shift, Janna and Justin talking, necking a little, the windows just beginning to steam.” Shared Room on Union, Steven Heighton

7. Quirky or Startling Opening Sentence

Example: “The world had teeth and it could bite you with them anytime it wanted.” The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, Stephen King

Example: “As soon as he stepped into the dim apartment he knew he was dead.” Garden of Beasts, Jeffery Deaver

Both of these examples also instill suspense, as they suggest danger and leave the reader anxious to find out more.

8. Compelling Character

Example: “First the colors. Then the humans. That’s usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try.” The Book Thief, Markus Zusak

What kind of character is this you ask yourself, compelled to go on.

Example: “Everyone knows this kid. He is dirty and dumb and sits in a corner, lonely, but not alone. His face has an involuntary twitch, and when he makes eye contact, his lids and cheeks squeeze his eyes shut. We call him Blinky. Blinky rolls with it, though, smiles big and toothy when kids shout his name across the schoolyard.” A Bottle of Scotch and a Sharp Buck Knife, Scott Grand

I chose this for character, but it’s got a big dose of voice in it, as well.

9. Tilting World

Example: “The ravens were the first sign. As the horse-drawn wagon traveled down the rutted track between rolling fields of barley, a flock of ravens rose up in a black wash. They hurled themselves into the blue of the morning and swept high in a panicked rout, but this was more than the usual startled flight. The ravens wheeled and swooped, tumbled and flapped. Over the road, they crashed into each other and rained down out of the skies. Small bodies struck the road, breaking wing and beak. They twitched in ruts. Wings fluttered weakly. But most disturbing was the silence of it all.” The Doomsday Key, James Rollins

Is there any doubt the world in this story is twisting off its axis?

Example: “On the afternoon I met my new neighbor, a woman others in the cul-de-sac would dub ‘Ramba,’ I wasn’t looking for trouble. In fact, I wasn’t looking for anything other than to enter my first full month of retirement with a small military pension and dreams of a hop to Florida or Hawaii once a year until my expiration date arrived.” Many Dogs Have Died Here, James Mathews

Nothing explicit occurs off the bat, but Mathews sets up for the punch. This poor sucker’s world is tilting.

10. Engaging Dialogue

Example: “'You look like crap, Pen.' Pendleton Rozier, my longtime mentor, opened the door wide, then coughed into the crook of his elbow. ‘If only I felt that good.’” Rule Number One, Alan Orloff

Example: “'Which is even weirder yet,’ Gowan said. ‘But that ain’t the best part.’ At approximately which point, Kramer didn’t want to hear any more. It had been a mistake to let Gowan get started. He went outside into the mild March evening to take a leak and get away from Gowan for a little while before hitting the sack. ‘Seriousy, I got the skinny on ‘em,’ Gowan said, unzipping and joining him at the edge of the porch.” Spring Rite, Tom Berdine

You’ll notice writing voice and character here, too.

Invest in a Great Beginning

Spending the time and effort to craft a superb opening for your story is a good investment. However, worrying over it can hold you up. If you’re spinning your wheels over how to start a story, just get something down and move on.

Then, when you’ve reached the end of your story and you have a better understanding of the theme, tone, and characters, you can go back and fine tune or start from scratch to design your perfect beginning.

Beautiful Bookends

In fact, doing so may afford you the opportunity to bookend your story with a beginning and ending that reflect on each other, enclosing your entire story in a nice, thematic package that’s very satisfying to readers.

For instance, my thriller novel Nocturne In Ashes opens with the protagonist, a concert pianist, bombing her comeback performance. Then at the end, after surviving a series of harrowing experiences and battling her inner flaw, she’s gained the confidence she needed and nails the Beethoven that was her downfall.

I’ve touched on some ideas to get you off to a great start, but there are many other types of openings to explore. If you’re having trouble, hit the library and see how others have done it. You’re sure to find something that works for your story. And have fun!

How about you? Do you struggle with how to start a story? What book openings have made an impression on you? Tell us about it in the comments section .

Using one of the types of openings outlined above, write the beginning for a story idea you have in mind, or choose from one of these prompts:

Stella is nervous about meeting her ex-husband for dinner.

Darren takes his son on a hunting trip, determined to teach him how to be a man.

Cheryl wants to try out for the girls’ softball team, but the captain is her ex-best-friend.

Write for fifteen minutes and when you’re finished, post your work in the practice box below. And if you post, be sure to leave feedback for your fellow readers!

Joslyn Chase

Any day where she can send readers to the edge of their seats, prickling with suspense and chewing their fingernails to the nub, is a good day for Joslyn. Pick up her latest thriller, Steadman's Blind , an explosive read that will keep you turning pages to the end. No Rest: 14 Tales of Chilling Suspense , Joslyn's latest collection of short suspense, is available for free at joslynchase.com .

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150+ Story Starters: Creative Sentences To Start A Story

The most important thing about writing is finding a good idea . You have to have a great idea to write a story. You have to be able to see the whole picture before you can start to write it. Sometimes, you might need help with that. Story starters are a great way to get the story rolling. You can use them to kick off a story, start a character in a story or even start a scene in a story.

When you start writing a story, you need to have a hook. A hook can be a character or a plot device. It can also be a setting, something like “A young man came into a bar with a horse.” or a setting like “It was the summer of 1969, and there were no cell phones.” The first sentence of a story is often the hook. It can also be a premise or a situation, such as, “A strange old man in a black cloak was sitting on the train platform.”

Story starters are a way to quickly get the story going. They give the reader a place to start reading your story. Some story starters are obvious, and some are not. The best story starters are the ones that give the reader a glimpse into the story. They can be a part of a story or a part of a scene. They can be a way to show the reader the mood of a story. If you want to start a story, you can use a simple sentence. You can also use a question or an inspirational quote. In this post, we have listed over 150 story starters to get your story started with a bang! A great way to use these story starters is at the start of the Finish The Story game .

If you want more story starters, check out this video on some creative story starter sentences to use in your stories:

150+ Creative Story Starters

Here is a list of good sentences to start a story with:

• I’ve read about a million stories about princesses but never thought I could ever be one.
• There was once a man who was very old, but he was wise. He lived for a very long time, and he was very happy.
• What is the difference between a man and a cat? A cat has nine lives.
• In the middle of the night, a boy is running through the woods.
• It is the end of the world.
• He knew he was not allowed to look into the eyes of the princess, but he couldn’t help himself.
• The year is 1893. A young boy was running away from home.
• What if the Forest was actually a magical portal to another dimension, the Forest was a portal to the Otherworld?
• In the Forest, you will find a vast number of magical beings of all sorts. 
• It was the middle of the night, and the forest was quiet. No bugs or animals disturbed the silence. There were no birds, no chirping. 
• If you wish to stay in the Forest, you will need to follow these rules: No one shall leave the Forest. No one shall enter. No one shall take anything from the Forest.
• “It was a terrible day,” said the old man in a raspy voice.
• A cat is flying through the air, higher and higher, when it happens, and the cat doesn’t know how it got there, how it got to be in the sky.
• I was lying in the woods, and I was daydreaming.
• The Earth is a world of wonders. 
• The fairy is the most amazing creature I have ever met.
• A young girl was sitting on a tree stump at the edge of a river when she noticed a magical tree growing in the water.
• My dancing rat is dressed in a jacket, a tie and glasses, which make him look like a person. 
• In the darkness of the night, I am alone, but I know that I am not. 
• Owls are the oldest, and most intelligent, of all birds.
• My name is Reyna, and I am a fox. 
• The woman was drowning.
• One day, he was walking in the forest.
• It was a dark and stormy night…
• There was a young girl who could not sleep…
• A boy in a black cape rode on a white horse…
• A crazy old man in a black cloak was sitting in the middle of the street…
• The sun was setting on a beautiful summer day…
• The dog was restless…”
• There was a young boy in a brown coat…
• I met a young man in the woods…
• In the middle of a dark forest…
• The young girl was at home with her family…
• There was a young man who was sitting on a …
• A young man came into a bar with a horse…
• I have had a lot of bad dreams…
• He was a man who wanted to be king…
• It was the summer of 1969, and there were no cell phones.
• I know what you’re thinking. But no, I don’t want to be a vegetarian. The worst part is I don’t like the taste.
• She looked at the boy and decided to ask him why he wasn’t eating. She didn’t want to look mean, but she was going to ask him anyway.
• The song played on the radio, as Samual wiped away his tears.
• This was the part when everything was about to go downhill. But it didn’t…
• “Why make life harder for yourself?” asked Claire, as she bit into her apple.
• She made a promise to herself that she would never do it.
• I was able to escape.
• I was reading a book when the accident happened.
• “I can’t stand up for people who lie and cheat.” I cried.
• You look at me and I feel beautiful.
• I know what I want to be when I grow up.
• We didn’t have much money. But we knew how to throw a good party.
• The wind blew on the silent streets of London.
• What do you get when you cross an angry bee and my sister?
• The flight was slow and bumpy. I was half asleep when the captain announced we were going down.
• At the far end of the city was a river that was overgrown with weeds. 
• It was a quiet night in the middle of a busy week.
• One afternoon, I was eating a sandwich in the park when I spotted a stranger.
• In the late afternoon, a few students sat on the lawn reading.
• The fireflies were dancing in the twilight as the sunset.
• In the early evening, the children played in the park.
• The sun was setting and the moon was rising.
• A crowd gathered in the square as the band played.
• The top of the water tower shone in the moonlight.
• The light in the living room was on, but the light in the kitchen was off.
•  When I was a little boy, I used to make up stories about the adventures of these amazing animals, creatures, and so on. 
• All of the sudden, I realized I was standing in the middle of an open field surrounded by nothing but wildflowers, and the only thing I remembered about it was that I’d never seen a tree before.
• It’s the kind of thing that’s only happened to me once before in my life, but it’s so cool to see it.
• They gave him a little wave as they drove away.
• The car had left the parking lot, and a few hours later we arrived home.
• They were going to play a game of bingo.
• He’d made up his mind to do it. He’d have to tell her soon, though. He was waiting for a moment when they were alone and he could say it without feeling like an idiot. But when that moment came, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
• Jamie always wanted to own a plane, but his parents were a little tight on the budget. So he’d been saving up to buy one of his own. 
• The night was getting colder, and the wind was blowing in from the west.
• The doctor stared down at the small, withered corpse.
• She’d never been in the woods before, but she wasn’t afraid.
• The kids were having a great time in the playground.
• The police caught the thieves red-handed.
• The world needs a hero more than ever.
• Mother always said, “Be good and nice things will happen…”
• There is a difference between what you see and what you think you see.
• The sun was low in the sky and the air was warm.
• “It’s time to go home,” she said, “I’m getting a headache.”
• It was a cold winter’s day, and the snow had come early.
• I found a wounded bird in my garden.
• “You should have seen the look on my face.”
• He opened the door and stepped back.
• My father used to say, “All good things come to an end.”
• The problem with fast cars is that they break so easily.
• “What do you think of this one?” asked Mindy.
• “If I asked you to do something, would you do it?” asked Jacob.
• I was surprised to see her on the bus.
• I was never the most popular one in my class.
• We had a bad fight that day.
• The coffee machine had stopped working, so I went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.
• It was a muggy night, and the air-conditioning unit was so loud it hurt my ears.
• I had a sleepless night because I couldn’t get my head to turn off.
• I woke up at dawn and heard a horrible noise.
• I was so tired I didn’t know if I’d be able to sleep that night.
• I put on the light and looked at myself in the mirror.
• I decided to go in, but the door was locked.
• A man in a red sweater stood staring at a little kitten as if it was on fire.
• “It’s so beautiful,” he said, “I’m going to take a picture.”
• “I think we’re lost,” he said, “It’s all your fault.”
• It’s hard to imagine what a better life might be like
• He was a tall, lanky man, with a long face, a nose like a pin, and a thin, sandy moustache.
• He had a face like a lion’s and an eye like a hawk’s.
• The man was so broad and strong that it was as if a mountain had been folded up and carried in his belly.
• I opened the door. I didn’t see her, but I knew she was there.
• I walked down the street. I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty.
• I arrived at my parents’ home at 8:00 AM.
• The nurse had been very helpful.
• On the table was an array of desserts.
• I had just finished putting the last of my books in the trunk.
• A car horn honked, startling me.
• The kitchen was full of pots and pans.
• There are too many things to remember.
• The world was my oyster. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth.
•  “My grandfather was a World War II veteran. He was a decorated hero who’d earned himself a Silver Star, a Bronze Star, and a Purple Heart.
• Beneath the menacing, skeletal shadow of the mountain, a hermit sat on his ledge. His gnarled hands folded on his gnarled knees. His eyes stared blankly into the fog. 
• I heard a story about a dragon, who was said to be the size of a house, that lived on the top of the tallest mountain in the world.
•  I was told a story about a man who found a golden treasure, which was buried in this very park.
• He stood alone in the middle of a dark and silent room, his head cocked to one side, the brown locks of his hair, which were parted in the middle, falling down over his eyes.
•  Growing up, I was the black sheep of the family. I had my father’s eyes, but my mother’s smile.
• Once upon a time, there was a woman named Miss Muffett, and she lived in a big house with many rooms.
• When I was a child, my mother told me that the water looked so bright because the sun was shining on it. I did not understand what she meant at the time.    
•  The man in the boat took the water bottle and drank from it as he paddled away.
• The man looked at the child with a mixture of pity and contempt.
• An old man and his grandson sat in their garden. The old man told his grandson to dig a hole. 
• An old woman was taking a walk on the beach. The tide was high and she had to wade through the water to get to the other side.
• She looked up at the clock and saw that it was five minutes past seven.
• The man looked up from the map he was studying. “How’s it going, mate?”
• I was in my room on the third floor, staring out of the window.
• A dark silhouette of a woman stood in the doorway.
• The church bells began to ring.
• The moon rose above the horizon.
• A bright light shone over the road.
• The night sky began to glow.
• I could hear my mother cooking in the kitchen.
• The fog began to roll in.
• He came in late to the class and sat at the back.
• A young boy picked up a penny and put it in his pocket.
• He went to the bathroom and looked at his face in the mirror.
• It was the age of wisdom and the age of foolishness. We once had everything and now we have nothing.
• A young man died yesterday, and no one knows why.
• The boy was a little boy. He was not yet a man. He lived in a house in a big city.
• They had just returned from the theatre when the phone rang.
• I walked up to the front of the store and noticed the neon sign was out.
• I always wondered what happened to Mary.
• I stopped to say hello and then walked on.
• The boy’s mother didn’t want him to play outside…
• The lights suddenly went out…
• After 10 years in prison, he was finally out.
• The raindrops pelted the window, which was set high up on the wall, and I could see it was a clear day outside.
• My friend and I had just finished a large pizza, and we were about to open our second.
• I love the smell of the ocean, but it never smells as good as it does when the waves are crashing.
• They just stood there, staring at each other.
• A party was in full swing until the music stopped.

For more ideas on how to start your story, check out these first-line writing prompts . Did you find this list of creative story starters useful? Let us know in the comments below!

Marty the wizard is the master of Imagine Forest. When he's not reading a ton of books or writing some of his own tales, he loves to be surrounded by the magical creatures that live in Imagine Forest. While living in his tree house he has devoted his time to helping children around the world with their writing skills and creativity.

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What happens at the end of 'Hit Man'? Glen Powell breaks down the surprise ending

Warning: This post contains major spoilers for “Hit Man.”

Glen Powell takes on a variety of characters — and viewers on a fun ride — in his latest film, “Hit Man.”

The action comedy — now in theaters and on Netflix June 7 — is inspired by the true story of straight-laced professor Gary Johnson, who secretly worked for the New Orleans Police Department as a fake hitman. Enthralled with creating new disguises, Gary and his colleagues are genuinely impressed with his commitment and skills to have the hitman clients take the bait.

When doing one particular undercover assignment, he creates the suave, sexy and confident persona of Ron. Ron meets with potential client Madison (Adria Arjona), a beautiful woman who is in an abusive relationship and seeks a hitman to kill her husband. Gary unexpectedly begins to fall for the elusive Madison, setting off a chain reaction of — to put it lightly — WTF moments that leave audiences on the edge of their seats.

Powell approached director Richard Linklater after reading the 2001 Texas Monthly profile on the real Gary Johnson’s life as a faux killer. Linklater said he'd read and been intrigued by Johnson’s story long before the “Anyone But You” star came across it.

“It was such an intriguing character, this Gary Johnson guy who moonlights as a fake hitman. That whole world, that whole environment is so interesting. So darkly funny, I never forgot it,” Linklater tells TODAY.com, noting that bringing it to the screen, however, was on the back burner. “It just kind of spun around in my head and it didn’t quite work as a film. But when Glen called me over the pandemic and we started talking about it, I was like, ‘Oh, yeah, we could (do this). Let’s keep going. Let’s keep pushing this.’”

The two began co-writing the script together, with the director calling Powell his “creative partner.”

The duo took some creative liberties with the film, especially the unexpected ending.

Read on to learn more about the “Hit Man” ending, as explained by Powell, Linklater and Adria Arjona.

What happens at the end of 'Hit Man'?

To the everyday world and those who really know him, Gary Johnson is an unassuming philosophy professor who does tech work on the side for the police. He's divorced and lives alone with his cats, Id and Ego.

As Gary takes on the persona of Ron, he comes to enjoy the charismatic, sexy and confident character he's created — especially after Madison takes interest in him. Ron sways Madison away from having her husband Ray (Evan Holtzman) killed, instead suggesting that it's better for her to leave him to start a new life. Clearly interested in Madison, Gary — as Ron — checks up on her and the two begin to casually and passionately date.

“When these two meet each other, they’re at very interesting crossroads in their lives where they’re feeling stuck in their identities,” Powell explains. “They put on a version of themselves that may be a little bit false, but it’s something that they want the other to see.” Through this lie, he adds, they double down on that identity, “the one that makes them really happy.”

One night after dancing at a club, Madison runs into her estranged husband who gets physical, prompting Ron to point his gun at Madison’s ex.

After the altercation, to Gary’s surprise, Ray looks into hiring a hitman, who happens to be “Ron,” to kill Madison. Ron then tells Madison that she needs to leave town because Ray is trying to kill her. However, in a turn of events, Ray ends up getting killed and police begin to investigate Madison.

Amid the chaos, Madison confesses to Ron that she killed Ray, which makes him panic and confess that he isn’t a real hitman and his name is Gary.

Gary’s police buddies — Phil (Sanjay Rao) and Claudette (Retta) — have no idea he's been dating Madison, especially under the guise of Ron. The only person who does know is undercover cop Jasper (Austin Amelio), who begins to play mind games with Gary.

Things take an unexpected turn when Gary is tasked to investigate Madison — as Ron — about Ray’s death. While he’s mic’d up, Gary uses notes on his phone to secretly tell Madison that the police are listening in on their conversation. Through his messages, he tells her what to say to get officers off her back and away with the murder.

Though they think they're all in the clear, Jasper, however, isn't convinced and later returns to Madison's home to confront the two of them with blackmail.

Just when things couldn't get wilder, Jasper begins to feel uneasy and passes out. It turns out Madison drugged him. Freaked out that they just drugged a police officer and that he knows Madison killed Ray, Gary decides he and Madison are a ride or die couple and puts a plastic bag over a passed out Jasper, suffocating him to death.

Do Gary and Madison get away with murder?

Yes, yes they do. Gary, now a pro at elaborate storytelling, eventually makes it look like Jasper overdosed.

It's implied that Gary and Madison continue to live their lives and no one ever suspects she killed Ray and they killed Jasper.

“It’s the definition of commitment,” Arjona tells TODAY.com. “That's who Madison and Ron are at the end of the movie. That’s like our ... ‘proposal’ in the movie. (Ron) putting that plastic bag over (Jasper’s head).”

Laughing, she quips, “If you think about it, that’s (Ron) kneeling down, being like, ‘Will you marry me?’”

Do Gary and Madison stay together?Yes, Gary and Madison have their twisted happy ending. The film flashes forward and shows the couple married and with kids. They are regular parents, volunteering at their children's schools, eating dinner together as a family and dog owners. At one point, their daughter asks them how they met.

Linklater explains his though process on the film’s ending.

“What if they’re actually meant to be together? Like, this is a great love story and the weirdest meet-cute,” he says.

Making it a “more optimistic” and fun, screwball comedy, he says, the director enjoyed the twists and turns. “It just seemed more fun and unexpected,” Linklater says, calling it “a happy ending — just never mind that small body count they had to go through to get there.”

Powell adds, “What’s really wild about this movie is it really is a love story. At the end of the day, it’s the beginning of a beautiful family. Every couple meets in different ways, this one just happens to have, you know, love and murder.”

Linklater doesn’t believe the couple keeps murdering people or take up real hitman jobs. “Let’s hope they don’t have to,” he laughs. “Why would they have to keep killing anyone? I think they eliminated their problem.”

The ending, he says, hints “at the normalcy of their family life.”

As for Gary embracing his “Ron” persona, Powell says that his character becomes a “hybrid” of the two. He believes the lesson of the film is: “It’s not too late to seize the identity that you want for yourself and chase what makes you happiest.”

“If you feel like you’re stuck in life, if you feel like you’re stuck in an identity that’s not making you happy, just make the choice to change,” he says. “And I think that’s what you see is two people that make each other very happy in new roles and these new faces and identities.”

This article was originally published on TODAY.com

‘How to End a Love Story’ Author Yulin Kuang on Plans for TV Adaptation of Her Debut Novel and Writing Emily Henry’s ‘Beach Read’ Movie

By Jennifer Maas

Jennifer Maas

TV Business Writer

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SPOILER ALERT: This article contains spoilers for Yulin Kuang ‘s new novel “ How to End a Love Story ,” which was released April 9.

Yulin Kuang was deep into her romance-novel era before she released her own first attempt at the genre, “How to End a Love Story,” last month. The debut author, who has thus far spent her career focused on TV and film writing, actually started penning her book while in the middle of adapting two rom-coms by best-selling author Emily Henry : “Beach Read” (which Kuang will also direct) and “People We Meet on Vacation.”

Popular on Variety

Here, Kuang (who created the now-canceled CW series “I Ship It!”) explains to Variety how she’d want to see her own book adapted by Hollywood — including the fact she’d prefer a TV series over a movie (for obvious reasons).

If it gets adapted, would you prefer “How to End a Love Story” as a TV show or a movie?

I would only do it as a series. I was talking to an executive friend and she was like, “Why won’t you do this as a movie?” And I was like, “Because I don’t want to have the Act Two in New Jersey. I want to have the New Jersey episode.” That makes more sense to me. I want the camping episode, the Jersey episode. But I don’t want the Act Two as camping and New Jersey and then we come back. That doesn’t feel like the promise of our premise, as a movie. Also I’m just really drawn to the meta idea of a TV show about a writers’ room and seeing how an actual writers’ room would transform this into something else that’s suited to the medium.

Are you currently in talks with any studio, network or streamer for the TV rights?

We are not. We haven’t taken it out officially, I think because my team actually really wants me to consider a movie and I’m not going to change my mind.

Do you have any actors in mind to play Grant and Helen?

Would you want to be the showrunner or write the series yourself? How involved would you want to be?

I would want more control than Helen because I’m more established in my career than Helen. But I would want more voices in the writers’ room. I wouldn’t want to do the thing where it’s just me. Because I know that that is the thing that some people do. But given the nature of the story, it’s interesting to bring in other voices. And I’d probably want to direct the pilot and maybe also the finale. But I would be very interested in seeing what other artists would bring to it because I think that’s the fun part of filmmaking being a team sport.

I know you have a three-book deal with publisher Avon — have you considered doing a followup to “How to End a Love Story” as one of those books?

The thing that draws me to romance as a genre is the way that the stories end, which is not necessarily how the characters end. I think that the characters are existing in this world: Grant is living through pilot season and Helen’s in the background, writing books and things right. But I think this is where I leave them. I have written them to the point that I am interested in them and I’m ready to take on other stories.

When I spoke with Emily Henry before her new book “Funny Story” came out, she was looking forward to getting new drafts of “Beach Read” and “People We Meet on Vacation” from you. Have you all spoken about those yet and how close are you to locking the scripts?

I did deliver those drafts before I went on book tour. And the thing I’ve realized is when they say pub month in publishing, they mean pub month . They’re taking the entire 30 or 31 days. Once pub month is over, I resume work on “Beach Read.” There will be notes from the studio on “Beach Read,” at least. But my time with “People We Meet on Vacation” is probably done. I think [director] Brett [Haley] has got it from here.

Emily’s new book “Funny Story” and her one before that, “Happy Place,” are not currently being developed for TV or film. If and when those rights are sold, would you want to adapt either or both of them as well?

Listen, I love Emily. I love her work so much, so much about it resonates with me. I’ll never say a hard no — but my dance card is quite full.

This interview has been edited and condensed.

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