In Laura Oliver’s wonderful
book, The Story Within: New Insights and
Inspiration for Writers, she suggests that writers go back and read just
the last page of stories under revision to see if you still like your ending.
Then she suggests that writers …"try reading just the last two paragraphs of
every story in an anthology. Amazingly, many of the great ones are interesting,
moving, or entertaining, even when you
haven’t read the rest of the story."
So I returned to several stories from The Best American Short Stories of 2012, edited by Tom Perrotta and selected a couple to pull out some endings to examine. See what you think of these endings.
Nathan Englander’s “What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank” from The New Yorker.
“And you
can tell that Shoshana is thinking of her kids, though that’s not part of the
scenario. You can tell that she’s changed part of the imagining. And she says,
after a pause, yes, but she’s not laughing. She says yes, but to him it sounds
as it does to us, so that he is now asking and asking. But wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t
I hide you? Even if it was life and death – if it would spare you, and they’d
kill me alone for doing it? Wouldn’t I?
Shoshana
pulls back her hand.
She does not
say it. And he does not say it. And of the four of us no one will say what
cannot be said – that this wife believes her husband would not hide her. What
to do? What will come of it?
And so we
stand like that, the four of us trapped in that pantry.
Afraid to
open the door and let out what we’ve locked inside.”
Mary Gaitskill’s “The Other
Place” from The New Yorker.
“The
hurts of childhood that must be avenged: so small and so huge. Before I grew up
and stopped thinking about her, I thought about that woman a lot. About what
would’ve happened if I’d gotten her there, to the abandoned house. I don’t
remember anymore the details of these thoughts, only that they were distorted,
swollen, blurred: broken face, broken voice, broken body left dying on the
floor, watching me go with dimming, despairing eyes.
Those
pictures are faded now and far away. But they can still make me feel something.
The second
time I put my hand on Doug’s shoulder, he didn’t move away inside; he was too
busy tuning in to the line and the lure. Somewhere in him is the other place.
It’s quiet now, but I know it’s there. I also know that he won’t be alone with
it. He won’t know I’m there with him because we will never speak of it. But I
will be there. He will not be alone with that.”
In fact, I’ve gone back to
several anthologies and journals to read just endings, even those stories I’ve
not read before, and I’m noticing how powerful imagery, gesture and metaphor can
be when used effectively in a story.
Because when you reach “The End” of your own story or someone else's
story, you see something that you’ve never quite noticed before. And perhaps
you’ll be a better writer because of it. Check out the beginnings of these two stories in Entry #151 that I posted on my blog for May 31, 2013. Then maybe you'll want to read both.
About Jan Bowman
Jan Bowman’s fiction has appeared in
numerous publications including, Roanoke Review, Big Muddy, The Broadkill Review, Third Wednesday, Minimus, Buffalo
Spree (97), Folio, The Potomac Review, Musings, Potato Eyes and others. Glimmer
Train named a recent story as Honorable Mention in the November 2012 Short
Story Awards for New Writers. Winner of the 2011 Roanoke Review Fiction Award,
her stories have been nominated for Pushcart
Prizes, Best American Short Stories, a Pen/O’Henry award and a recent story
was a finalist in the 2013 Phoebe Fiction Contest; another was a 2012 finalist
in the “So To Speak” Fiction Contest. She is
working on two collections of short stories while shopping for a publisher for
a completed story collection. She has nonfiction publications in Trajectory
and Pen-in-Hand.
She writes a weekly blog of “Reflections” on the writing life
and posts regular interviews with writers and publishers. Learn more at www.janbowmanwriter.com or
visit blog: http://janbowmanwriter.blogspot.com
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