writewithfire

[writewithfire]

10 Ways to Craft an Ending That Leaves Readers Satisfied (and Haunted)

To avoid making your story ending disappointing, you need to create an ending that feels earned, meaningful, and resonant. Here’s how you can achieve that:

1. Fulfill the Promise of the Story

• Setup and Payoff: Make sure that your ending resolves the central conflict or answers the key question posed at the beginning. If you’ve set up big mysteries, themes, or emotional stakes, the ending must address them meaningfully.

• Genre Expectations: A horror story should leave readers disturbed, unsettled, or haunted. A romance should offer closure to the love story (happy or tragic). Honor the genre you’re working in while still aiming for originality.

2. Avoid Deus Ex Machina

• Don’t introduce sudden solutions, characters, or twists that haven’t been set up earlier in the story. The ending should arise organically from the events, choices, and themes you’ve established.

3. Ensure Character Arcs are Complete

• Your protagonist (and key supporting characters) should have gone through meaningful change. Their transformation—whether growth, failure, or stagnation—should resonate with the reader.

• Ask yourself:

• Has the protagonist learned something?

• Have they made a choice that reflects who they’ve become?

• Do the events of the story matter to their journey?

4. Avoid Rushing the Ending

• A rushed ending often feels abrupt or hollow. Give the resolution enough space for emotional weight to sink in. Readers need time to process the climax and see the consequences of the story’s events.

5. Embrace Emotional Resolution

• Beyond plot resolution, your ending should strike an emotional chord. Even in horror, readers crave some form of catharsis—be it dread, unease, sadness, or even a glimmer of hope.

• Show Aftermath: Highlight how the events affected your characters or world. This helps ground the stakes and reinforces the emotional impact.

6. Surprise, but Satisfy

• A good ending doesn’t need to be predictable, but it must make sense in retrospect. Twists should feel clever, not cheap. Readers should be able to look back and see that the clues were there all along.

• Subvert Expectations Thoughtfully: Surprises should align with your story’s themes and tone. Avoid shocking readers just for the sake of it.

7. Thematic Resonance

• Your ending should tie back to the themes you’ve explored. If your story is about the destructive nature of obsession, your ending could reflect that theme in an unexpected but inevitable way.

• Ask: What do I want my reader to feel or think as they close the book? Leave them with something to ponder.

8. Test the Ending

• Read it aloud to see how it flows emotionally and structurally.

• Beta Readers: Ask readers if the ending felt satisfying, earned, and true to the story. If they’re left feeling underwhelmed, find out why.

9. Be Honest About Your Story’s Tone

• Don’t force a “happy” or “tidy” ending if it doesn’t fit your story. For horror, ambiguity, tragedy, or lingering questions can often make for the most powerful endings.

• Consider the following types of endings:

• Closed Ending: All questions answered, full resolution.

• Open Ending: Some questions remain, but the main arc feels resolved.

• Bittersweet Ending: A mix of triumph and loss.

• Circular Ending: The story ends where it began but with deeper meaning.

10. Craft a Memorable Final Image or Line

• End with a powerful visual, thought, or action that lingers. In horror, the final moment can leave readers unsettled, questioning reality, or haunted by what’s to come.

Reflective Questions for Yourself:

• Does the ending feel earned, or does it come out of nowhere?

• Will readers feel that the time they invested in the story was worth it?

• What emotional impact do I want the ending to have?

[writewithfire]

A character concept that I'm actually surprised I haven't seen more, now that I think about it:

A character with a tragic past who's beautiful in an unthreatening, pitiful sort of way, who goes "wait hold on, people think I'm cute?" and immediately goes drunk with power. Having a whole villain arc getting corrupted by the power of being just so tragic and pathetic that people can't be mad at them. Someone who's been accustomed to always being the one who's blamed and punished no matter whose fault the problem was suddenly discovering that actually they could get away with murder by being so big-eyed and sad.

And once they figure out that they can just Poor Little Meow Meow their way out of anything, they do. Going from being genuinely skittish and timid into pretending to do so merely as an act, manipulating the shit out of everyone and avoiding all suspicion because Look How Sad And Wet And Pathetic I Am, of course they couldn't do any harm to anyone ever.

And if one person finally does see right through that act and puts puzzle pieces together of how there's been just too many suspicious coincidences and accidents that only one person would actually benefit from, they confront the Tragic Little Act directly, one-to-one, to say "I'm fucking onto you and your shit"

And suddenly they completely snap out of their timid, pathetic presentation to give a big, wide, sickening smile like "no-one's ever going to believe you."

[writewithfire]

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

[writewithfire]

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[writewithfire]

i do enjoy "living weapon" characters but specifically living weapons who did in fact do absolutely horrific things which at least a part of them enjoyed and thought was good and right at the time, and that no amount of not knowing any better or guilt they feel in hindsight will ever make up for. i love living weapons who are "irredeemable", and no it's not their fault that they were made that way or pointed in the directions they were by the hand that wielded them, and yes they are victims, but so were their victims. living weapons who some people will never be able to forgive, but who still wake up every day and try to do better than what's expected of them. a sword that uses its blade to cut wheat to make bread for the people who once lived in fear of its arc falling on their heads.

[writewithfire]

Want quick tips to add instant chemistry to your characters' relationships??

(🥳With examples🥳)

First of all, I want to say that you can also use most of them for platonic/ non-romantic relationships, so feel free to use this tips however you think they might work better in your story. So, without further adue, let's get to the tips!!!

Make your characters LISTEN to each other. Like, if A tells B they're not a morning person, B could make some coffee for A or lower the volume of their alarm.

This might sound quite obvious, but show that you characters care for each other. It might be as simple as one of them giving the other a glass of water when they feel a little dizzy, but it works wonders!

Make your characters fiscally close. When you are emotionally close to someone, you tend to be fiscally close too. But here is the thing. Make your characters react like it's second nature: "how would I not hug B when I haven't seen them in days?" or "Of course I'm gonna take A's hand when I feel insecure".

They don't have to be constantly thinking about each other, but when they do, MAKE IT MATTER!! For example, character A is out shopping, and they see B's favorite cookies. B didn't have a good day, and A knows that. But A also knows B is gonna fucking love the cookies, so they buy some.

Let them believe and trust each other. Also applies if one of them is a little distrustful: let your characters rely on one another, even if at the start they aren't as comfortable doing it. For a distrustful character, letting the other one help with chores might be a HUGE thing.

[writewithfire]

[writewithfire]

I’m rewriting my chapters to be less “getting character from point A to point B” and more “this is an episode of a TV show in that there’s an emotional arc and a mild cliffhanger” and tbh it’s resulting in way more succinct and exciting chapters

[writewithfire]

Some of the biggest fantasy worldbuilding fails that I see, in no particular order

Gods without religion. The Gods are real and a known historical fact, but virtually nobody is religious.

Cultural racism/discrimination without structural racism/discrimination. Discrimination that exists only in microagressions or mean comments, without existing in any sort of structural way.

Secret history with no clear reason for it to be secret and no clear method for maintaining that secrecy. Major parts of the world's history are kept entirely secret, even though there's not an obvious reason to do so and even when history has shown this is virtually impossible to enforce (especially in a world with any movement or communication across borders).

Large, homogeneous countries. Even without immigration, virtually no country larger than the Vatican will be fully homogeneous in terms of culture, dialect, beliefs, traditions, etc., much less a large one with limited communication technology as is often seen in fantasy. The Planet of Hats problem.

[writewithfire]

one of my very favorite obscure story tropes is when there’s an episode/plotline/tabletop campaign session where the conceit is ‘each member of the gang gets trapped in a specially tailored dream/nightmare/illusory mindscape and has to break out’

[writewithfire]

let your imagery be a little violent let your imagery be a little weird let your imagery be a little sexual and by god let it be sacrilegious. at this point if someone looks at it weird im just going to assume theyve got the art-consuming palette of a four year old. stop making artistic chicken nuggets when you could be cooking an actual meal just because some people cant handle the flavor doesnt mean it shouldnt exist. damn

[writewithfire]

I’m getting really tired of the wise serene pacifist trope in fiction. Every committed pacifist, prison abolitionist, antiwar activist, etc I’ve ever met in real life has been vibrating with compressed rage at all times. Do you know what it’s like to believe deeply in your heart that doing harm to others is wrong and the goal of society should be to alleviate suffering for all people and live in the United States of America? IT’S NOT FUN. Show Us The Pissed-Off Pacifists. 

[writewithfire]

yes please run that character into the ground. they need to be swaying and staggering by the climax of the book/movie/episode

BUT

they have to get to collapse after. they need to fold into a heap while their friends/team scramble to break their fall. deprive them of that rest until the very end but then they need to actually get it.

bonus points if they’re delirious/drifting/only half-aware the comfort is happening

[writewithfire]

horniest battle moments:

- taking your ally's weapon out of their scabard to use yourself

- using someone else's shoulder as a rifle stand

- nudging someone's chin up with the tip of your weapon

- freezing with your blades against one another's throats, breathing into each other's mouths

[writewithfire]

Oh my gosh. I just found this website that walks you though creating a believable society. It breaks each facet down into individual questions and makes it so simple! It seems really helpful for worldbuilding!

[writewithfire]

How to Write a Novel:  Tips For Visual Thinkers.

1.  Plotting is your friend.

This is basically a must for all writers (or at least, it makes our job significantly easier/less time consuming/less likely to make us want to rip our hair out by the roots), but visual thinkers tend to be great at plotting.  There’s something about a visible outline that can be inexplicably pleasing to us, and there are so many great ways to go about it.   Here are a few examples: 

The Three-Act Structure

This one is one of the simplest:  it’s divided into the tried-and-true three acts, or parts, a la William Shakespeare, and includes a basic synopsis of what happens in each.  It’s simple, it’s familiar, it’s easy to add to, and it get’s the job done. 

It starts with Act I – i.e. the set-up, or establishing the status quo – which is usually best if it’s the shortest act, as it tends to bore audiences quickly.  This leads to Act II, typically the longest, which   introduces the disruptor and shows how characters deal with it, and is sandwiched by Act III (the resolution.)  

The Chapter-by-Chapter

This is the one I use the most.  It allows you to elucidate on the goings on of your novel in greater detail than the quintessential three act synopsis generally could, fully mapping out your manuscript one chapter at a time.  The descriptions can be as simple or as elaborate as you need them to be, and can be added to or edited throughout the progression of your novel.

Can easily be added to/combined with the three-act structure.

The Character Arc(s)

This isn’t one that I’ve used a lot, but it can be a lot of fun, particularly for voice-driven/literary works:  instead on focusing on the events of the plot, this one centralizes predominantly around the arc of your main character/characters.  As with its plot-driven predecessors, it can be in point-by-point/chapter-by-chapter format, and is a great way to map out character development.  

The Tent Moments

By “tent moments,” I mean the moments that hold up the foundation (i.e. the plot) of the novel, in the way that poles and wires hold up a tent.  This one builds off of the most prevalent moments of the novel – the one’s you’re righting the story around – and is great for writers that want to cut straight to the action.  Write them out in bullet points, and plan the rest of the novel around them.

The Mind Map

This one’s a lot of fun, and as an artist, I should probably start to use it more.  It allows you to plot out your novel the way you would a family tree, using doodles, illustrations, and symbols to your heart’s content.  Here’s a link to how to create basic mind maps on YouTube.

2.  “Show don’t tell” is probably your strong suit.

If you’re a visual thinker, your scenes are probably at least partially originally construed as movie scenes in your head.  This can be a good thing, so long as you can harness a little of that mental cinematography and make your readers visualize the scenes the way you do.

A lot of published authors have a real big problem with giving laundry lists of character traits rather than allowing me to just see for myself.  Maybe I’m spoiled by the admittedly copious amounts of fanfiction I indulge in, where the writer blissfully assumes that I know the characters already and let’s the personalities and visuals do the talking.  Either way, the pervasive “telling” approach does get tedious.

Here’s a hypothetical example.  Let’s say you wanted to describe a big, tough, scary guy, who your main character is afraid of.  The “tell” approach might go something like this:

Tommy was walking along when he was approached by a big, tough, scary guy who looked sort of angry.

“Hey, kid,” said the guy.  “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to a friend’s house,” Tommy replied.  

I know, right?  This is Boring with a capital ‘B.’  

On the other hand, let’s check out the “show” approach:

The man lumbered towards Tommy, shaved head pink and glistening in the late afternoon sun.  His beady eyes glinted predatorily beneath the thick, angry bushes of his brows.

“Hey, kid,” the man grunted, beefy arms folded over his pot belly.  “Where are you going?” 

“I’m going to a friend’s house,” Tommy replied, hoping the man didn’t know that he was ditching school.

See how much better that is?  We don’t need to be told the man is big, tough, and scary looking because the narrative shows us, and draws the reader a lot more in the process.  

This goes for scene building, too.  For example: 

Exhibit A:

Tyrone stepped out onto his balcony.  It was a beautiful night.

Lame.  

Exhibit B: 

Tyrone stepped out onto his balcony, looking up at the inky abyss of the night sky, dotted with countless stars and illuminated by the buttery white glow of the full moon.

Much better.

3.  But conversely, know when to tell.

A book without any atmosphere or vivid, transformative descriptors tends to be, by and large, a dry and boring hunk of paper.  That said, know when you’re showing the reader a little too much.

Too many descriptors will make your book overflow with purple prose, and likely become a pretentious read that no one wants to bother with.

So when do you “tell” instead of “show?”  Well, for starters, when you’re transitioning from one scene to the next.

For example:

As the second hand of the clock sluggishly ticked along, the sky ever-so-slowly transitioning from cerulean, to lilac, to peachy sunset.  Finally, it became inky black, the moon rising above the horizon and stars appearing by the time Lakisha got home.

These kind of transitions should be generally pretty immemorable, so if yours look like this you may want to revise.

Day turned into evening by the time Lakisha got home. 

See?  It’s that simple.

Another example is redundant descriptions:  if you show the fudge out of a character when he/she/they are first introduced and create an impression that sticks with the reader, you probably don’t have to do it again.  

You can emphasize features that stand out about the character (i.e. Milo’s huge, owline eyes illuminated eerily in the dark) but the reader probably doesn’t need a laundry list of the character’s physical attributes every other sentence.  Just call the character by name, and for God’s sake, stay away from epithets:  the blond man.  The taller woman.  The angel.  Just, no.  If the reader is aware of the character’s name, just say it, or rework the sentence. 

All that said, it is important to instill a good mental image of your characters right off the bat.

Which brings us to my next point…

4.  Master the art of character descriptions.

Visual thinkers tend to have a difficult time with character descriptions, because most of the time, they tend to envision their characters as played their favorite actors, or as looking like characters from their favorite movies or TV shows.

That’s why you’ll occasionally see characters popping up who are described as looking like, say, Chris Evans.  

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine, because A) what if the reader has never seen Chris Evans?  Granted, they’d probably have to be living on Mars, but you get the picture:  you don’t want your readers to have to Google the celebrity you’re thirsting after in order for them to envision your character.  B) It’s just plain lazy, and C) virtually everyone will know that the reason you made this character look like Chris Evans is because you want to bang Chris Evans.  

Not that that’s bad or anything, but is that really what you want to be remembered for?

Now, I’m not saying don’t envision your characters as famous attractive people – hell, that’s one of the paramount joys of being a writer.  But so’s describing people!  Describing characters is a lot of fun, draws in the reader, and really brings your character to life.

So what’s the solution?  If you want your character to look like Chris Evans, describe Chris Evans.

Here’s an example of what I’m talking about:

Exhibit A:

The guy got out of the car to make sure Carlos was alright, and holy cow, he looked just like Dean Winchester!

No bueno.  Besides the fact that I’m channeling the writing style of 50 Shades of Grey a little here, everyone who reads this is going to process that you’re basically writing Supernatural fanfiction.  That, or they’ll have to Google who Dean Winchester is, which, again, is no good.

Exhibit B:  

The guy got out of the car to make sure Carlos was alright, his short, caramel blond hair stirring in the chilly wind and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.  His eyes were wide with concern, and as he approached, Carlos could see that they were gold-tinged, peridot green in the late afternoon sun.

Also note that I’m keeping the description a little vague here;  I’m doing this for two reasons, the first of which being that, in general, you’re not going to want to describe your characters down to the last detail.  Trust me.  It’s boring, and your readers are much more likely to become enamored with a well-written personality than they are a vacant sex doll.  Next, by keeping the description a little vague, I effectively manage to channel a Dean Winchester-esque character without literally writing about Dean Winchester.

Let’s try another example: 

Exhibit A:

Charlotte’s boyfriend looked just like Idris Elba. 

Exhibit B:  

Charlotte’s boyfriend was a stunning man, eyes pensive pools of dark brown amber and a smile so perfect that it could make you think he was deliciously prejudiced in your favor.  His skin was dark copper, textured black hair gray at the temples, and he filled out a suit like no other.

Okay, that one may have been because I just really wanted to describe Idris Elba, but you get the point:  it’s more engaging for the reader to be able to imagine your character instead of mentally inserting some sexy fictional character or actor, however beloved they may be.

So don’t skimp on the descriptions!

5.  Don’t be afraid to find inspiration in other media!

A lot of older people recommend ditching TV completely in order to improve creativity and become a better writer.  Personally, if you’ll pardon my French, I think this is bombastic horseshit.  

TV and cinema are artistic mediums the same way anything else is.  Moreover, the sheer amount of fanart and fanfiction – some of which is legitimately better than most published content – is proof to me that you can derive inspiration from these mediums as much as anything else.

The trick is to watch media that inspires you.  I’m not going to say “good media” because that, in and of itself, is subjective.  I, for example, think Supernatural is a fucking masterpiece of intertextual postmodernism and amazing characterization, whereas someone else might think it’s a hot mess of campy special effects and rambling plotlines.  Conversely, one of my best friends loves Twilight, both the movies and the books, which, I’m going to confess, I don’t get at all.  But it doesn’t matter that it isn’t good to me so long as it’s good to her.   

So watch what inspires you.  Consume any whatever movies, books, and shows you’re enthusiastic about, figure out what you love most about them, and apply that to your writing.  Chances are, readers will find your enthusiasm infectious.

As a disclaimer, this is not to say you get a free pass from reading:  I’ve never met a good writer who didn’t read voraciously.  If you’re concerned that you can’t fall in love with books the way you used to (which, sadly, is a common phenomenon) fear not:  I grappled with that problem after I started college, and I’ll be posting an article shortly on how to fall back in love reading.

So in the meanwhile, be sure to follow my blog, and stay tuned for future content!

(This one goes out to my friend, beta reader, and fellow writer @megpieeee, who is a tremendous visual thinker and whose books will make amazing movies someday.)

[writewithfire]

So I frequently see people talking about reasons why you shouldn't kill off a character, but I was wondering what good reasons are there for killing off a character, and how can I make their death meaningful?

They no longer serve a purpose. You can find this often in fantasy novels, where the protagonist usually has a mentor who often dies immediately after imparting meaningful lessons upon the young hero. 

It changes things. Where the characters may have done one thing while someone was alive, they will now do this other thing because they misinterpret the dead character’s wishes, want to honor/avenge the dead character, because they lack the dead character’s steadying hand/impulsiveness/trait, or basically act in a way that differs from how they would have acted with the character’s survival

Motivation. You want your character to do something. You’re fresh out of angsty teenage rebellion, out of the goodness of one’s heart is running low, and loyalty to the cause is in the red. There’s nothing like grief to spice things up.

“But clevergirl!” you cry, “These are the reasons you said we shouldn’t kill off characters for!”

Yes and no. You can kill off characters for these reasons but you must disguise the fact as best you can that you killed them off for these reasons. The character’s death shouldn’t come across as necessary for plot advancement. It should come across as a tragedy of the highest caliber. You’re writing from a character’s perspective. They don’t know that a character died because they outlived their usefulness. All they know is that their best friend is dead and they don’t know what to do with themselves.

To that end, here are some ways to make character death more meaningful:

Do it sparingly. I say sparingly within the context of the work. War, plague, or disaster novels might have people dying left and right, but secondary/main characters don’t die every other page. (Also, if you kill characters off too much, you risk desensitizing your readers to death.) If you’re writing about a softer topic, don’t murder the grandmother and the dad in one day.

Acknowledge the character’s existence. The dead character might have family or other friends who are also reacting to their death at the same time as the MC(s). The character’s absence should be noted in all aspects of their life, from the knitting club to the desk in the corner. The absence should have an impact on the proceedings of these aspects. The knitting club should disband without the dead character’s conciliatory influence. The desk in the corner should go unoccupied and is generally avoided for weeks.

Appropriate levels of grief. Another thing that annoyed me about the Inheritance Cycle was that Eragon bawled his eyes out when he had to kill some snakes and insects to gain their power. When actual people died, he shed “a single, shining tear”. Come on! Your characters don’t need to descend into a frenzy of grief for every dead character - indeed, they may feel happy or can only sympathize with people who were impacted worse by the sudden loss. Save the real grief for character deaths that really impact the MC. If there are multiple deaths, the MC should not react in the exact same way to all of them.

Emotions other than sadness. When one of my relatives died of terminal cancer, I was sad, but I was also relieved because they weren’t living in pain anymore. In the same way, a child might be happy their parent is dead so they can receive money they desperately need to pay off their debts, but still deeply mourn the parent’s passing. Some characters might feel anger or self-hatred if their actions led to the death. They might feel overwhelmed because of events other than the death or events stemming from the death. They might feel betrayed if the character died doing something stupid or contrary to orders. Grief is many emotions, of which sadness is one.

Grief is not overcome by a single reason/event/person. Probably the worst thing ever in the history of literature is the belief that romantic love will overcome anything. In this case, many grieving characters will soon find their emotions taking a backseat to their new love, who will teach them to find a middle ground. In an equally annoying and false trope, characters automatically find their grief satisfied when they avenge the dead character’s death by killing the character’s killer. NO. You don’t automatically get over someone with a new love or by satisfying some goal deep inside you. It takes time and a variety of factors, not just one.