With the holidays so recently behind us, January seems like a good time to reflect on wrapping packages—that is, on tying up all the loose ends in our plots, down to the smallest questions in a reader’s mind.
I wrote recently about reader expectations, and here’s a biggie. Although a certain ambiguity may be thought-provoking, basically anyone who picks up your book has the right to find her questions answered. This embraces all the areas where any mystery has existed: the who, what, when, where, how, and why of the story.
In a classic whodunnit, the final exposition lays out all of these answers for the central mystery. But any novel needs a satisfying set of solutions to the questions it has raised—and not just elements of the main plot.
Here are a few sorts of oblique mysteries you may have opened without even thinking about it. Forgive me if I use the murder mystery as an example; these reflections will apply sui generis to any genre you write.
Just What Do You Think You’re Doing?
First of all, there’s the touchstone of normal behavior. If a protagonist acts outside this norm, tell us why. Even if it’s just out of his individual character for a personage to be so—you name it: trusting? Suspicious? Mild-tempered? Angry?—we need to know why. Do they have something in mind? Are they trying to allay a suspect’s mistrust? Does this touch them painfully in an old psychic wound?
Don’t leave the reader feeling the author has missed a beat.
If the character seems to overreact, give us an explanation. If they seem not to have seen a clue that is shrieking its importance so that that reader is aware of it, explain why. Let them notice and discard it for a particular reason, for example.
Readers should never have to wonder if characters react in the way they do simply because the plot requires it.
What Do Threads and Participles Have in Common?
Threads, like participles, shouldn’t dangle. It’s typical for an investigator to talk through the state of her case with a colleague, a friend, or even her cat. This is a great way to sum up what the reader needs to know at this point of the story.
In the course of this conversation, she’s likely to pose herself some questions. “But why would he want his grandmother dead?” “If she was excavating on Bora Bora at the time, how could she have been seen in Reno?” Or it may be something like why the sidekick was late to their meeting, which enabled him to spot the suspect entering a wig store. Or, if it’s mentioned that George’s wife is due to deliver a baby any day, please let us know how that turned out. Any question that’s asked, any possibility that’s opened—whether it’s part of the central mystery or not—must be resolved by the end.
It’s worth doing a final comb-through of the manuscript, jotting down every thread that’s opened, just to be sure it gets a resolution.
And Now To Wrap Up
Those are just a few examples of the kind of threads that need to be tied neatly up by the end of the book lest you leave readers dissatisfied. You’ve probably encountered a few when you yourself were reading someone else’s work and know what I mean!
There can be exceptions, to be sure. One that springs to mind is when a new problem is being introduced with an eye to subsequent books in a series. But that has as its purpose to arouse reader curiosity and leave it unfulfilled … until next time.
For now, be sure everything is tied up tight and sent it on its way.
