“Readers don’t want to guess the ending, but they don’t want to be so baffled that it annoys them.”
—Sue Grafton
Mystery novels usually end with a final scene or two of reflection. I call it the coda. It contains the final resolution or clarification of the plot. Coming after the book’s pull-out-all-the-stops final climax, the coda is like a cleansing breath after vigorous exercise. It’s a chance to tie up loose ends. The coda might be nothing more than dialogue between two characters talking about what happened. It might be an extended internal dialogue in which your main character thinks about the events of the story. It might include a lighthearted scene between your protagonist and the love interest. By the end of the coda, all of your plot’s puzzle pieces should fit snugly together.
Here’s part of the ending of Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep, a novel about pornography and blackmail, and one of the first classics of the hard-boiled genre. As you read, think about how the main character’s introspection puts the story in perspective and provides a sense of closure.
I got into my car and drove off down the hill.
What did it matter where you lay once you were dead? In a dirty sump or in a marble tower on top of a high hill? You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that. Oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. Me, I was part of the nastiness now. Far more a part of it than Rusty Regan was. But the old man didn’t have to be. He could lie quiet in his canopied bed, with his bloodless hands folded on the sheet, waiting. His heart was a brief, uncertain murmur. His thoughts were as gray as ashes. And in a little while he too, like Rusty Regan, would be sleeping the big sleep.
On the way downtown I stopped at a bar and had a couple of double Scotches. They didn’t do me any good. All they did was make me think of Silver-Wig, and I never saw her again.
Not much happens here: Detective Philip Marlowe walks out of a house, drives to a bar, and has a couple of drinks. The action itself is irrelevant except to serve as a foil for Marlowe’s final bitter reflections. But these poignant paragraphs provide an elegiac coda as Marlowe leaves the story behind figuratively and literally (I got in my car …). He contemplates “the big sleep” to which others have gone and ruminates about the meaning of death (What did it matter where you lay …) and how he’s become tainted by what’s happened (I was part of the nastiness now …). He stops at a bar and knocks back two double Scotches, presumably to forget, but instead he remembers Silver-Wig, the girl who helped him dodge the big sleep (… and I never saw her again.).
The final coda should not be a long scene that belabors every point in the story or gives a cumbersome synopsis. It shouldn’t introduce new plot strands or new characters. Instead, the coda should bring the protagonist full circle and show the reader how he’s been changed by what happened. Here are some of the purposes it can serve:
The last lines of your book should feel like an ending. One way of doing this is to show your protagonist looking back and looking forward, like the two-faced Janus from Roman mythology, putting the past to rest and moving on. Here are examples of final lines from best-selling mysteries that show the protagonist moving on:
With a deep sigh, George put his car in gear and slowly edged back on to the Scardale road. No matter what the future might hold, it was time to take the first step on the road to burying the past, this time forever. (A Place of Execution by Val McDermid)
Overhead, the sky was a brilliant blue. The hot Miami sun warmed hearts and minds and points south. A late-afternoon breeze rattled in the palms and caused the water of Biscayne Bay to gently lap against the boat hull. Life was good in Florida. And okay, so I was going back to working on cars. Truth is, I was pretty happy with it. I was looking forward to working on Hooker’s equipment. I’d seen his undercarriage and it was damn sweet. (Metro Girl by Janet Evanovich)
She walked away from that building of captive souls. Ahead was her car, and the road home. She did not look back. (Body Double by Tess Gerritsen)
Spend time crafting your final sentences. Make them memorable, and leave readers looking forward to your next book.
A final coda is a workhorse of a scene, so a little housekeeping is needed to make sure it provides a satisfying conclusion to your novel. Make a list of everything you want the ending to accomplish.
Download a printable version of this worksheet at www.writersdigest.com/writing-and-selling-your-mystery-novel-revised.
___ Tell what’s happened since the last climactic scene.
___ Summarize the resolution, and communicate the protagonist’s feelings about how things turned out.
___ Resolve any loose plot and subplots.
__ Tell what happened since the climactic final scene.
___ Make the final lines sing.
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