Showing posts with label climax. Show all posts
Showing posts with label climax. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Leaping into the abyss

John's post of last Thursday struck a chord. For me, writing the end is one of the most challenging aspects of creating a novel. Some people struggle with the mushy middle - pacing, twists, how to fill 200 more exciting pages. However, for those of us who fly by the seat of our pants, figuring out how to end the book is what keeps us up at night and fuels many an argument on a solitary walk.



There are actually two parts to the end: the climax, when the hero solves the crime and catches the killer, and the denouement, where everything is explained and loose ends are tied up. Gone are the days of the sleuth gathering everyone in the library (or courtroom) and talking to one suspect to another until he reveals the killer. Nowadays, even in gentler cosy mysteries, readers expect some drama to keep them on the edge of their seats. The climax is usually an action scene that pits hero against villain.

When I write a novel, I don't know whodunnit, why, or how the hero is going to figure it out. I plow ahead from scene to scene, unrolling more twists and complications and putting more balls up in the air. About two-thirds of the way along, I start to panic. Enough complications and balls up in the air! How am I going to land this sucker? I need to keep the hero (and the readers) in the dark, chasing suspects and red herrings, until the last possible minute, when they have an epiphany and go after the right suspect. I also need to have them capture that suspect in a reasonably dramatic scene, to keep the excitement and suspense going to the final moment.

It's a very intricate, high-stakes dance that requires quite a few pieces to come together in exactly the right way. Sometimes I don't even know for sure who my villain is until the final climax, when I have an epiphany of my own. As in "Ahah! This is the perfect villain to pull the whole story together!" Oh, the stress of standing on the edge of the abyss, knowing the end of your novel waits on the other side but with no idea what it is and how you're going to get there. Or indeed whether there is another side.



Tying up loose ends actually plays a role in figuring out the climax. Loose ends are those dozens of balls I have thrown up in the air during the story. Each one of them is a question that need to be answered. Sometimes after days of pacing in front of the abyss, asking "What do I do now?", I list all those questions on a sheet of paper and stare at them, like pieces of a puzzle, asking how they can best fit together, do I need them all, and what if I do this instead of that. Usually out of all this hair-pulling and what if's, the kernel of a solution emerges. A key piece, around which I can start to fit the others.

Once I've written this hopefully spectacular climax, I breathe again. I have a book. Rewrites will focus it, sharpen it, and get rid of the inconsistencies and rough bits. But it works! After this, the denouement is a time to breathe again, to address most the questions as yet unanswered and to hint at the future. The hope is to leave the reader satisfied with the story rather than thinking "But what about...", but also intrigued enough by the characters and the lingering questions to pick up the next book. 

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Teasing loose the logjams

Barbara here. These are the lazy, hazy days of summer, when I can be found lounging on the dock at the lake, sipping that evening drink, and waiting for the barbecue to work its magic without dirtying a single pot or bowl. The light lingers, the final rays of sun stay warm...

The TV is rarely turned on. The news is followed but at a distance. In Canada at least, it seems like a sacrilege to waste time indoors in front of the babble box when the all-too-precious days of summer are calling.

It would be nice to take a break from all work, to do nothing but read, eat, sleep, and hang out with friends. But writing is a full-time, 24/7 job. Deadlines beckon, and in the writing business, there is no one but ourselves to snap the whip. My novels usually take about a year to complete, and during that year the publisher and editor sit quietly, trusting that the completed work will land in their inbox by the contracted deadline. So it's up to me to set the mini-deadlines. It's easy to let a day slip by without writing, saying "oh, I'll make it up tomorrow". Easier still to let the second day go by, and pretty soon, I've forgotten where I was going in the book, I've lost the momentum, and the whole project feels like one giant millstone. I don't know how many times in the past few weeks I have said "I hate this book, I don't know where it's going but I'm afraid it's nowhere."

People often ask me if I write every day. I say yes, I write in some fashion. It's the only way the book will get written. But sometimes the "writing" is really thinking. Pondering the next step, untangling a mess, trying to figure out where it should go next. This thinking is essential, because in my modified "pantser" style of writing, I often don't know what ought to come next. So even though I may barely put pen to paper, by thinking, I may dislodge an entire logjam of ideas to move the story forward another few chapters.

For me, one of the worst logjams occurs when I am nearing the end of a book, before I have figured out how it will end. Before I have figured out how the main character will solve the mess or who the villain will prove to be. I am at that point in my current WIP, the third Amanda Doucette mystery, Prisoners of Hope. I have half a dozen story threads on the go, a few suspects, and a bubbling cauldron of problems. Amanda is on the move, chasing down one of the suspects. But will that suspect be THE one? Or will there be more twists?

One of the elements I love and hate most about writing mysteries is this climax, where everything has to come together simultaneously. The main character must figure it out at the last minute, just ahead of the reader, and the whole solution must be revealed in a dramatic, exciting finish. Drawing room discussions of guilt or innocence, a la Hercule Poirot, or courtroom accusations like Perry Mason are now a cliche, and todays' readers expect more. Moreover, twenty-page epilogues to tie up all the loose ends are an anti-climax. As much as possible, loose ends should be explained in the main climax.

All this – the big reveal, the dramatic finish, the maintenance of suspense, and the tying up of loose ends – is no easy feat. No wonder I get exhausted just thinking about it, and am currently circling around and around the ending. I poke away at the logjam as I drive the car, walk the dogs, wash the dishes, and even as I sit on the dock with my glass of wine, letting the evening haze settle over me. I know the answer will probably not come in a single stroke of brilliance but in a series of small "what ifs" that nudge the logjam from the edges, teasing possibilities free until something shifts and the way forward is revealed.

I know it will happen. I have learned, after fourteen books, to trust that I will eventually figure it out. But it always feels as if this time, I may crash and burn.

Hopefully not.