"It Ain't Over Till It's Over' or...
When You Get to the End, STOP WRITING! by Gino Bock.
Among the authors I know there is no consensus
about using story outlines. Some writers use outlines, some don’t. I’m one of
those that don’t. I always plan to,
just like I plan to put money aside to pay my bills or plan to lose weight so
I’ll fit into that suit I don’t want to send to Goodwill, but the truth is I
never do it. I jump at the keyboard, excited because I thought of a great,
exciting issue or problem, usually from an incident in my own
memory—something that actually happened
to me. Then I just start writing. After all, with such a great party-starter of
an idea, this just has to result in a great story, right?
Uh, not necessarily. To me a great story
needs two things. A terrific beginning, which grabs readers and drags them into
the story, hungry for what happens next. But it needs a
greater, even more terrific end,
something that resolves the plot, does something unexpected and leaves the
reader with some lesson learned or a new way to look at life…in other words, it
changes the reader, maybe just a little or maybe a lot. That’s a GREAT
ending. The middle, where everything
happens, has to be good- good enough to get the reader to the great ending and
good enough to justify the terrific beginning. But the middle can be
complicated and confusing (that’s why it’s referred to as the ‘muddle’) and
doesn’t get the fun job of resolving all the conflicts and solving all the
mysteries.
If I were a part of a story, I wouldn’t want to be the middle. I’d
have to do all the work and I’d get none of the credit. Too bad. There are no
unions in Storyland. Tough noogies for the middle. I’d want to be the end.
That’s where the goods get delivered. That’s what people remember. If the end
of the story makes the reader stare at the last page, wailing, “NOOOOOOO!” then
I can count on at least one sale for my next book.
That’s a heavy burden to put on a few
pages or even a few chapters. That’s asking a lot from a thousand words or so, many
of which didn’t even plan on being in the book. The ending has a few big jobs
to do. Primarily it must resolve the main plot- in a who-dun-it, we learn the
who. In an on again-off again romance the couple either winds up together or
apart, decisively, this time. Lassie finds Timmy and helps him climb out of the
well. The bad guys get punished, the
good guys get rewarded (or vice versa, that makes a good ending, too) and all
the subplots that are wandering around unattended like children at a carnival
must be hunted down, corralled, fed, diapered and driven home for a nap.
The action comes to an end and all the
questions are answered and everything is neatly tied up with a big bow. Does
that mean it’s a great ending? Not to me. I’ve done all that stuff and more,
yet still I kept writing because it didn’t feel like the book had ended.
Something big was missing, like instead of finding an amusement park at the end
of the road, I drove through the sign that said ‘bridge out’ and…well, there ya go…that only really worked for
“Thelma and Louise.”
Maybe an outline would have helped. But
even if every line on the “Ending: To Do” checklist was marked complete, it
still wouldn’t feel right. After all this blathering, what did I really want to
say to the reader? Have I said it? Has this long journey been productive? What
EMOTION is missing here? Does the end fulfill the promise made by the
beginning? If not, I keep writing…and writing… I can’t end the book till I can
figure out what’s missing. When I find it, I
put it squarely where the reader can find it. Then I go back and remove
everything that doesn’t need to be there, no matter how much has to go. If I
walk away, because everything’s been checked off so I must be done, the reader
will disagree and turn the page looking
for the ‘real ending.’ If I do the job properly, the only reason I’ll write “The End” is because I’m dying to see those
words on paper. But they won’t be necessary. Both of us—the author and the
reader--will know exactly when the story ends.
And when that happens, if I’m smart and
paying attention, I hope I’ll STOP WRITING!
Bio: Gino
B. Bardi was born in New York City in 1950, and lived on the South Shore of
Long Island until he attended Cornell University in 1968, during the tumultuous
era of Vietnam War protests. Armed with a degree in English/Creative Writing,
he diligently sought work in his field and soon wound up doing everything but.
For the next forty-four years he cranked out advertising copy, magazine
articles, loan pitches and short stories while running a commercial printing
company in Upstate New York. Along the way, he married his college girlfriend,
became father to three lovely daughters and decided that winter was an
unnecessary evil. In 2008 he sold the printing business, retired, and now
writes humorous fiction in his home on the Gulf Coast of Florida. Two signs
hang above his desk: "Bad decisions make good stories," and Mel
Brooks' advice that "You only need to exaggerate a LITTLE BIT."
The Cow in the Doorway is his first full-length novel and won the statewide Royal Palm Literary Award for best unpublished New Adult novel for 2015.
The Cow in the Doorway is his first full-length novel and won the statewide Royal Palm Literary Award for best unpublished New Adult novel for 2015.
Twitter: ‘ginobardi1’ (just got it, nothing posted)
LinkedIn: Gino Bardi
Skype:
gino.bardi
Buy link:
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