By Malai Escamilla

When I’ve reached the end of a submission, one of the worst feelings to be left with is: “It didn’t go anywhere.”

The ending of your story is the final impression you leave on a reader. It is the thing that will be freshest on an editor’s mind when deciding whether or not to accept your submission. And it is, in my experience, an incredibly hard thing to nail.

“It didn’t go anywhere,” is a feeling of disappointment. It means that while there were captivating elements of the story—be it characters, prose, plot, or more—the story fumbled the ending, petering out rather than delivering a satisfying conclusion. A common problem we find in pieces that are rejected are stories which just stop. Rather than building to anything or providing any catharsis, the piece simply ends in what feels like the middle. Set-ups are not paid off, there is no climax or catharsis, the story is just over. 

Worse, a story that “didn’t go anywhere,” is one that can retroactively harm its previous good qualities. If you as a reader were patiently waiting for story elements to come together, for characters to change, or for some sort of truth to be revealed, a lackluster ending punishes this patience. The feeling of disappointment and anti-climax might cause the reader to think a little harder on flaws they might otherwise have ignored, or worse, to feel that they’ve wasted their time.

This is not to say that an ending must wrap up every plot thread, be absolutely final, or have no sense of ambiguity or lingering questions. It also doesn’t mean that an ending has to be bombastic or positive, or that the characters must learn and grow to be satisfying. Some of my favorite endings in fiction have been ambiguous, understated, and depressing, with characters who didn’t learn their lesson and repeated their same mistakes. 

Rather, the way you nail your ending is to know what your story is about.

A good ending comes in all sorts of forms, but these forms are specific to the story it’s attached to. In order to deliver that triumphant win, final gut punch, or thought-provoking question, you need to know what story it is that you are telling. This does not mean genre or plot, but instead the focus of your tale. For example, a Cinderella retelling can be a romance, a critique of social structures of power, or a meditation on abuse. Each of these might have the same plot points and fall in the same genre, but the different thematic material requires a different execution of the ending. Sure, Cinderella fits the slipper and marries the Prince, but is that love conquering all or a girl rising in social standing at the whim of the monarchy? It’s up to you to recognize which emotion best fits your story, and do your best to deliver.

Now, I am not saying you have to know exactly how your story will end before you begin. My personal writing process involves a lot of starting with a basic premise and improvising most of the way. However, as you’re writing, do your best to get a feel for what your story is about. You might know it before you start writing, or you might figure it out several thousand words in, but once you have it, your goal is to deliver it in the most compelling way possible. This is definitely where revisions come in handy, as they allow you to clarify certain points or provide the necessary set-up to give your ending maximum impact.

On the literary magazine end of things, this clarity of intent is a great thing. A story with a satisfying ending is one that has proper set-up and payoff, strong thematic resonance, and a powerful final note that will stick in reader’s heads. In the same way that a lackluster conclusion might retroactively harm a story, a strong finish informs the reader that the story was well-constructed and worth thinking about, and tells editors that it’s the kind of story worth publishing.

Endings are the final impression you leave with your reader. As such, it’s vital that you take full advantage of those last moments to deliver the full weight of your story.

And, to prove the dissatisfaction of a piece that “didn’t go anywhere,” I will end this post in the middle of