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FIRST PLACE
Putting An End To It
By Kathy Altman
King George, Virginia
I’m eating a slice of lemon meringue
pie as I mull over the words displayed on the screen
of my laptop. The pie is my reward for nearly finishing
my short story. Notice the word ‘nearly’.
What my story lacks is an ending.
I lick meringue off the fork and consider my options.
The words ‘The End’ are an easy way out, but they’re also a
bit anti-climactic. Nor can I help the fleeting temptation to type ‘And
they lived happily ever after,” but that won’t work either; there
are no fairy princesses, talking mice, evil queens, or Meg Ryans in my story.
Closing with an open-ended question is always a possibility. I could solicit
the reader’s own creativity by ending the story with a bit of speculation.
I could ask something like “Would she ever be able to forgive herself?” or “Would
things ever be the same?” or “Anyway, where could he go?” Then
again, it might compel the reader to pose his own question, “And why didn’t
I just write my own story?”
Perhaps I could end with a pertinent quote. “As Johnny Paul once said …”.
But on second thought, I don’t think it’s wise to end my piece with
someone else’s words.
What I really need to decide is how I want the reader to feel at the finish.
Warm and fuzzy? I’ll write a happy ending. Insignificant? I’ll stop
on a downbeat. Hopeful? I’ll finish with an epiphany. Validated? I’ll
spin a circular ending. Intrigued? I’ll trail off with an ellipsis. Startled?
I’ll end the piece with a twist.
The word ‘twist’ reminds me of lime which reminds me of lemon which
reminds me of my pie. I help myself to another forkful. Guilt niggles at me;
dinner is only an hour away and here I am filling up on dessert.
I jerk upright in my chair. I’m eating dessert before the meal. Why can’t
I apply that to my story and start with the ending? I tap the tines of my fork
against my lower lip. After a few inspired moments, I sink back into poor posture.
I realize that no matter where I place the ending, I still have to write it.
My piece is basically a character study. I consider ending the story with my
character’s abandoning his car in a parking lot and wandering off into
the twilight toward his next self-discovery. Wait a minute. That sounds suspiciously
like having him ride off into the sunset. I don’t want to disgust the reader
by wrapping things up with a cliché.
Only bits of piecrust remain on my plate. I push them around with my fork to
form a ring of crumbs, and I decide that a circular ending will be the most effective.
Surrendering my fork, I ready my hands at the keyboard. I think of a perfect
tie-in to the beginning of my piece, and I type madly. It’ll read something
like this …
Copyright (c) 2003 for the
author, all rights reserved.
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