Could really use some help with short story endings.

I have alot of trouble writing short stories (or any stories for that matter) because I just don’t know how to end them. I guess I have the classic postmodernistic problem of not being able to draw conclusions and/or making moral statements. My basic ideas tend to be funny but they remind me of Kurt Vonnegut’s alter ego, Kilgore Trout’s stories. Acutally they’re not stories so much as synopses of stories that aren’t written. It seems that Kurt himself didn’t have any idea what to do with a story but liked the basic idea enough to make it a faux story. Any ideas on how to end stories. What kind of things to think of and/or take into acct?

Just because you don’t know how to end doesn’t mean you can’t start. Write a few of them and see what happens. If you develop your characters well, sometimes they’ll find their own way.

This may not work for you, as writing is a very subjective process, but:
Try to visualize the final scene of a story in your mind. Something that you think is neat, and is more or less “final”. Then write your story “backwards”.
In other words, at random or from memory, figure out a real neat final scene/ending and then create a story that leads into that ending.

Example: “Leave!” he roared. “Go to your classes!” We left and went. (The End)

Works for me at times, but YMMV. Good luck!

Everybody dies.
Just kidding, I understand your frustration. I’ve dabbled witha few short stories myself. The hardest part for me is the FIRST LINE. (or just getting started in general) The second hardest is the ending. You already have some good ideas here. Keep trying.


Love to ALL,
TN*hippie

No, TN, “Everyone dies,” is the way an amateur ends a story. A true pro writer uses, “Suddenly, everyone got run over by a truck.” See Michael O’Donoghue’s “How to Write Good.” :wink:

KidC – don’t worry about the ending; start writing the story. Sometimes you have an ending in mind, but if you don’t, you keep writing until you come to an end. Get the characters talking and they’ll figure out how to go with it.

If you want some more advice, take a look at Algis Budry’s The Seven Parts of a Story

It had all been a dream.

They lived happily ever after.

And with that, he passed away into his eternal rest.

‘But that’s impossible’, she said, ‘you can’t possibly have spoken with James. He died exactly 100 years ago today…’

He knew the fight wasn’t over. It wasn’t even the beginning of the end. But, he felt, it may at least be the end of the beginning.

‘Oh that?’, muttered the old man. ‘Ah, I’m afraid I told a little white lie. You see, there never was one in the first place!’

She looked into her newborn child’s eyes. ‘Welcome’, she thought. ‘Welcome to my world’.

‘I do’, she said.

He knew it was not over. Other days would bring other attacks, new threats. But for now? For now there was Earth, with its skies and oceans, and there was life, with its pain and joy, and there was Aekeda, waiting to welcome him with her open arms back on Centauri IV. But most of all… most of all, there was hope.

Ad then there was only silence.

‘… all of which is proof enough for any jury in the land. And that, my friend, is murder one.’ ‘Damn you!’ screamed Taylor, ‘damn you to hell!’.

They kissed. And she knew nothing, nothing at all, except that now and forever she would be with him, hand in hand, trust in trust, whatever life would bring.

‘I think you misunderstand’, came the quietly spoken explanation. ’ “How to serve people” is a recipe book’.

‘War is hell,’ said The Gun. ‘I’ll drink to that!’ replied Lehrmann.

He looked it over once more. A single piece of paper, bearing a single secret. Men had died trying to obtain it, and now he knew it was his duty to return it to his bosses. He lit another cigarette. Did he want to open it and read its contents? “Here’s to glory” he said, applying the flickering flame to the corner. He watched the yellow flame dance its way across the paper, untl there was nothing but ash. “Some things a man’s better off not knowing” he said, to no-one in particular, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the door. It had been four hours since he’d had a drink.

He knew he’d never see Gulch Creek again, and vice-versa. He reckoned he could live with that. He’d heard there out West there was gold in the hills, work to be had, and maybe even a card game or two where they’d let him play. He sipped his whisky, grabbed his stetson, and by the time the swing doors stopped swinging, he and his horse were just shadows on the horizon.

She took one last, lingering gaze at his now lifeless form. She picked up the case with the bond certificates, and then, with no more than a trace of a smile, deliberately stepped over him to reach the door. She turned back for one last look. ‘Poor John. You always said it would be “Over my dead body”. Looks like you finally got something right.’ She locked the door from the outside, threw the key down the waste disposal, and slipped away into the cool air of dawn.

‘Ah yes, the Rembrandt. Yes, that IS interesting, because if I’m not very much mistaken, it’s actually a forgery. And I should know. You see, I forged it’.

‘Did I really have three Aces?’. Chuck smiled his smile, chewed the end off another cigar, and leaned back in his chair. ‘Well, let’s put it this way. No-one can ever prove I didn’t, now can they?’

She had no idea if it was love. But she knew that it might be, could be. And for her, for now, she knew that was enough.

‘Oh it was quite simple really, once he’d made his first silly mistake. You see, ALL violinists hold the bow in the right hand, not the left, whether they are left-handed or not. So I knew he must be lying about his injury, and that sort of wrapped it all up. More tea, Inspector Crane?’.

‘You said every man has his price. Well, maybe that’s true. But whatever mine is, you can’t afford it. Goodbye. And those goons outside can relax. Nothing you do to me now will make a difference. I sent the file’s to the DA this morning. And don’t worry, there’s PLENTY about you in it’. With that, Granger left. Just another day at the office.

Once more, peace had returned to Archadrel’s kingdom, and the Stone Of White was returned to its rightful place within the Castle Of Ark-Nur. Thus ended the fifth era of the Cycles Of Marn.

That should be enough to be going on with.

The End.

“I hope you enjoyed the preceding preview of [insert title]. For the entire work, please send $24.95 to…”

RealityChuck, that was a great link.