Scene Endings
Give Each a Punch Before You Punch Out!
by Wulf Moon
I'm a professional freelance editor. I've edited hundreds of manuscripts for clients, and the results many have enjoyed after my edits have been, well, absolutely wonderful: first professional sales by writers unpublished prior to the edit; #1 bestselling novel in a major genre category; multiple winners in prestigious international contests; and more.
Some ask why I don’t advertise my services on my website. The truth is, word of mouth brings in all the business I need, all the business I want. You see, I’m a writer first. I lead by example. Which is why my edits yield so much success for my clients. You want someone to get you alive to the top of Mount Everest? You hire an experienced Sherpa that has gone there himself and, more importantly, can prove he has guided others safely to that peak. 'Fake it till you make it' will not work here. Pretending you’re something that you’re not will get people killed in mountain climbing.
In writing, a bad editor won’t get someone killed, but it will kill a writer’s chance for success. There are plenty of editors that hang out their shingle with zero experience in producing publishable writing themselves but promise they can show you how to do it. Some edits I've seen appear to be just a vehicle to fluff an inexperienced writer up so they'll come back for more instead of telling the writer the truth: This manuscript needs a lot of work before it's at the level where it can sell.
There are plenty of writers willing to throw money at an editor that tells them how wonderful their writing is instead of showing them the tough love that gets their manuscript into shape. Thoughtful, detailed edits take a great deal of time, especially if they're teaching the reasons for changes in the margins. But an editor that's proven they've done what they teach (which is what good editing really is) is worth their weight in gold. They have the skills necessary to help you get successfully to that summit you wish to reach.
They've been there. They know the best route. They have actionable intel to get you to the top of your game.
Which brings me to this Super Secrets of Writing tip. In a recent edit for a client, I gave him some advice that I’ve given to many that have hired me over the years. It’s a recurring issue I see in many manuscripts, so chances are this advice is going to help you as well. Ready for the gold? You don’t have to pay for a professional edit from me to get it (but it might be nice to buy a subscription to Story Unlikely in thanks).
All set? Then belly up to the bar. I’m reaching for the shiny bottle on the top shelf and pouring you one of my finest. Will that be neat? Or with a splash of water? Let's say neat--I don't water down my advice because it won't help you if I do.
Revel in the burn.
The Problem
I recently gave a client this advice: "Give each scene a punch before you punch out." I also told him to write it down and stick it prominently in his writing space. Why? Because I see the issue continually in manuscripts I edit. Writers apparently get tired putting all their energy into completing a scene; when they get to the end, they want to punch out. Whew! Their work is done … never realizing it's not done yet! And the newer the writer, the more often this problem occurs.
The good news? This mechanical issue is easy to fix, but you need to recognize it to do so. Let's have a look under the hood and see why that scene ending is stalling out. Uh, how do you pop this one open? Oh, thanks. These hood releases can be tricky!
Let’s see …. Good, you’ve got a working engine, but it sounds a little rough—this story should be purring like a kitten. Ah, there’s the problem! Scenes are like mini stories. They have a beginning. They have a middle. They have an end. Once writers I’ve worked with recognize they need to SET. THE. STAGE. at the start of each scene (another common issue—I devote a whole chapter to it in my book How to Write a Howling Good Story), they progress toward the protagonist’s objective or goal in the scene. Whether it’s a conflict scene (action scene), or whether it’s a resolution scene (reaction scene that often leads to an even bigger problem), the newer the writer, the more common it is for their scenes to end with a fizzle rather than a sizzle. Instead of an exciting effervescent closing line, we've got flat warm soda that's been sitting on the counter all day. Yuck!
It’s as if the conflict scene filled a balloon with air until it looked like it was about to burst, and then the resolution scene deflated the balloon and instead of teasing us with what's to come next, all we are left with is a limp flatulent piece of latex. Who wants to be left at the end of a scene with a limp flatulent piece of latex? Trust me, your readers will wonder, Where’s the cool wrap-up for this scene? Where's my taste of what's to come in the next? And then the real question comes, and it’s the kiss of death. Why should I read on when all you left me with is a limp flatulent piece of latex?
When I made my living as an independent salesperson, there was a saying I often recalled to enhance my success: Sell the sizzle, not the steak. You see, people buy on emotion. You need to excite prospective buyers with your product to get them past their protective blinders and recognize this isn’t a want, it’s a need, and they need to have this. Restauranteurs know this fact well. It’s the sizzle, the mouth-watering aroma, the steam rising as the waitperson walks by with an artfully prepared entree that moves you to say, “I’ll have what she’s having.” (Okay, there might have been just a little more sizzle to that line in When Harry Met Sally.)
The point is, build anticipation. When you go to a restaurant, you want to eat—it’s time to fuel up, your stomach is growling, and you're hoping for a tasty meal. The menu is artfully presented to give you the chef's choices. But what makes you order a particular dish? Your need stirred by emotional cues. We eat first with our eyes, and as we look over colorful photos of artfully plated dishes and evocative descriptions of their ingredients, our mouths water, anticipating the meal to come. You read the description of the dish that captures your eye and if the words sound appealing, your hunger transforms into desire, and you place your order.
"Oh, wait," your server says. "Let me see if we have any more left in the kitchen--I think we just sold the last one."
"What?" you say. "I need that dish! Please go check with the kitchen, quick!"
That’s called the Takeaway Close for you home gamers. Just another method to build anticipation. You get those juices flowing, you create the desire … and then you take the outcome desired away from the guest or client, or at least put it in jeopardy so that want becomes need. Fulfilling that need is now in peril, adding a new layer to the emotional stakes. Hasn't a salesperson ever told you at some point, 'Let me call my boss and see if we have that size/color/model left in stock'? Yep. You had the takeaway close played on you. Works every time because it puts the thing desired in jeopardy of being achieved. And in writing, if a reader buys into the character they're reading about and the thing they need in a scene, what's the best way to build anticipation? Put that desperate need in jeopardy at the end of the scene. Don’t let your reader off the hook!
My point? Never end one scene without building anticipation for the next. That's how you write a page-turner. Just because the scene goal was achieved does not mean the scene ends at that exact point. That’s the steak, yes, but where’s the sizzle to your ending? Where’s the spicy seasoning? Even a dollop of tasty sauce to finish it off would be nice! Don’t just plop meat on a customer’s plate and say, “There’s your beef. Will that be all?” At the very least you could say to the guest before walking away, “Enjoy, but do save room for desert. The chef prepared her specialty today. It’s to die for.”
Remind your reader guest that the meal isn’t over. Sure, they've had one breakfast, but what about second breakfast? What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? Make your reading hobbits anticipate, even salivate, for the next course to come. They have voracious appetites, but it's up to you to stir their hunger for more.
How do you do this magic in fiction writing? How do you create that sizzling last line in a scene that makes the reader's mouth water for the next dish in your seven-course meal?
The Solution
Here’s what I tell my clients, and I'm repeating it for emphasis: Think of each scene as if it were a mini story. We all understand story. A story has a beginning, it has a middle, and it has an ending. Scenes are the same. When you read a story and it abruptly ends after the climax, how do you feel? If you’re like me, you look around for the missing pages. Where’s my denouement? Where’s my resolution lines about the conflict and my confirmation that life goes on? Darn it, I want my sweet riding off into the sunset dessert!
Scene endings need similar things. Like a story’s denouement, they cleverly wrap up what was accomplished in the scene and then they hint at what’s to come in the next. They do this in the last paragraph or even with a stand alone last line. If it’s a conflict scene, could you end it at the height of uncertainty of the outcome? Will the scene goal be achieved, or will there be crushing defeat? If the answer is in limbo, the reader will rush to the next scene with gusto because you didn't give them the answer in the scene they just read. You did the takeaway close. They'll have to read the next to find out what happens. That's a sizzler ending to a scene. My mouth watered just thinking about it. Hey, I’m a writer.
The old radio show writers were masters at this. They’d end each episode with the hero hanging by their fingernails over a literal or figurative precipice of certain death, and just when it appeared the hero was about to drop, the announcer would step in and tell listeners if you hope to discover if your beloved hero will live or die, tune in next week for another exciting episode! And next week? They’d pull the same trick! And the next week? You got it, the same darn trick! But audiences fell for it repeatedly because the writers kept them spellbound with episodes that ended with danger, thrills, and heart-pounding excitement.
Even today, I'll bet you've binge-watched many a series' episodes far past your bedtime because the screenwriters knew how to leave you worried about the hero's outcome at the end. Cliffhangers! They work!
You know the secret. You've had it played on you. Now you do the same. You don’t need to hang your hero off the cliff edge every time, but why not end your scenes with a sense of mystery, fear, premonition, danger. Put some emotion in that last line! Even hope can work as a scene ending, because if you’ve done your job right in preceding scenes, the reader knows the hero’s hope is going to be dashed all to hell in the next scene. They’ll read on because they care about your vulnerable character. They know the combat boot is about to drop. And they’ll want to protect them. Muahahahahah! They’ll find out they are powerless to do so, and their only option will be to read on, hoping all will be well for their beloved character in the next scene, and the next, all the way to the inevitable climax and the delectable denouement ending of your story.
To serve up that unforgettable seven-course meal, to cast that out of body entrancing reader spell, to create that heart-pounding stay up all night page-turner, there’s only one way to end your scenes.
Give each scene a punch before you punch out.
