Discovery Writers In Step 7 Discover Their Ending
Step 7: Discovery Writers in step 7 Discover Their Ending
You’ve survived the middle. You can see daylight. But now comes another challenge for discovery writers: how do you end this thing?
Endings are tricky for all novelists, but especially for those of us who work without a roadmap. You’ve been following breadcrumbs through the forest, and now you need to find your way home—a home you haven’t actually seen yet.
The good news? By this point, your story knows what it wants to be. Your characters have revealed their true natures. The themes have emerged. Your job now is to listen to what your draft is telling you and find the ending that feels inevitable yet surprising.
Sure, you say, but what does that mean? It means you have set up a series of events and character development and development of setting that are leading your characters to an inevitable ending. Follow it.
The first rule for discovery writers, as I have said repeatedly, is finish your draft. An imperfect ending that you can revise is infinitely better than a perfect ending that exists only in your head. Give yourself permission to write an ending that’s “good enough for now.”
How do you know what your ending should be? Start by asking these questions:
What has your protagonist learned? The ending should demonstrate how your character has been changed in some way through the events of the story and his or her own growth or transformation.
What promises did your beginning make? If you opened with a mystery, it should be solved. If you began with a character wanting something, they should either get it or discover they wanted the wrong thing all along. In other words, discover something, learn something, through failing that gives the story meaning.
What would feel emotionally satisfying? Logic matters less than emotional truth in endings. What would give readers the emotional closure they need, even if some plot threads remain loose?
When I’m struggling to find my ending, I’ll often go back to the first few chapters and look for clues I left myself without realizing it at the time. Or maybe an offhand observation can lead you to a satisfying ending.
Discovery writers frequently find that their endings were hiding in plain sight all along. Trust the groundwork your subconscious has been laying.
Fiction writing is always a mix of conscious and subconscious decisions. You can write something you don’t quite understand but feel is right. That something might lead you to a clear understanding of your theme later, especially in revision when the EDITOR part of your brain takes over.
Some practical approaches when the ending eludes you are the following:
Write multiple endings: Draft two or three different conclusions to your story. Sometimes the act of writing one ending clarifies why a different ending would work better.
The cinematic approach: Visualize your ending as a series of images. What’s the final scene that would stay with readers? Work backward from there.
Ask the “what if?” question: What if the villain won? What if your protagonist failed but found something more valuable? What if the external goal turned out to be a distraction from what really matters to the character internally?
Follow emotional arcs to their conclusion: If your character started fearful, where might courage lead them? If they began selfish, how would newfound empathy change their choices?
How do you know when you’ve reached “the end” of draft one? When the primary problem of the story has been resolved or transformed in a meaningful way. When your protagonist has completed their emotional journey, for better or worse. When the central question of your novel has been answered. You may not know all these things. Or you may find out in revision that you can deepen the groundwork you’ve laid.
Your ending doesn’t need to tie up every loose end. In fact, some of the most powerful endings leave certain threads for readers to ponder. But the central promise of your story needs fulfillment.
What about those stubborn stories that resist ending? We’ve all been there—250 pages in and still no clear conclusion in sight. When this happens, it’s usually because:
1. You’re afraid to finish because then you’ll have to face revision.
2. You’ve got too many plot threads and can’t resolve them all.
3. You never clarified what your story was truly about.
For the first problem, set a deadline and stick to it. For the second, decide which threads matter most and focus on resolving those. Understand you may need to do serious cutting in revision. For the third, go back to your foundation—what was the core of this story? End there. Again, you may have to guess at your core in draft one. That’s fine. You’ll figure it out in revision.
Remember: first-draft endings are rarely perfect. Mine certainly aren’t. I’ve written “placeholder” endings just to get to the finish line, knowing I’ll completely rewrite them later.
Let me emphasize once again that a first draft is a beginning and not an end. It is an accomplishment. You have proven to yourself that you can write an entire novel from beginning to end.
So, write your ending. Make it as good as you can with what you know right now. Then type those magical words: “The End.”
Celebrate! You’ve done something remarkable.
Let me make one last important point (again) before we move on to Revision: This is, I think, an essential part of being a discovery writer. You have to have faith in your ability to find your way without a map. You have to have faith in your subconscious and your ability to make connections that will lead you to other connections in revision. As a discovery writer, it’s important you don’t try to edit when you’re writing the first draft. Let me explain. It’s all very scientific. Your brain will get in the way of your brain. Terrible when that happens. Your wild creative story-making brain cannot run free when the nagging editor brain starts criticizing. They start to argue. They really go at it. You get lost or stuck or worse.
You’ve got to run wild in draft 1. Then, in revision your analytical (editorial) self must take over and look for problems and ways to generally and specifically improve the manuscript. The revision is essential, too. In revision, you must calm the “run wild” part of your brain with practical decisions. Of course there will be a bit of overlap, but work to keep these two separate as much as possible.
Now, as we move into the next phase of building your novel, you’ll need to use the analytical/editorial brain. A first draft is not the true end. It is the end of the first part of your journey (bit of a mixed metaphor here, forgive me) and the beginning of the second.
