The Beauty of a Good Ending

I just finished watching the series finale of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Although Avatar is a kids’ show, the storytelling in that series is really high quality, a good balance of plot, character, drama, and humor. The story throughout the three seasons is quite well told, and the ending in particular is one of the the most poignant I’ve encountered.

To sum up the basics of the story, the Avatar is the only one in the world of the Four Nations who can manipulate (or bend) all four elements. Aang is the Avatar, and the last Airbender; they were all wiped out by the Fire Lord a century ago, and the war between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world goes on throughout the series. Aang has to master the four elements and defeat the Fire Lord, or else the world will fall out of balance.

Well, obviously, he does that. It is a children’s show, after all, and they’re not going to end it in a Shakespearean fashion. But all the loose ends come together so neatly at the end, and it’s one of the most moving images in the whole series to see Aang, at the end, dressed as a master Airbender, savior of the world — and last of his kind. The ending sticks with me every time I watch it.

Or how about the ending to Harry Potter? I invested three years of my life into Avatar, so I was eagerly anticipating its conclusion, but I started reading Harry Potter on my tenth birthday, in 1999. Not only did I spend eight years of my life waiting to see how all that would turn out, but I essentially grew up with Harry. I started the first book right when I was around his age, and due to the timing of the other books’ publications, I finished it the summer before I turned 18 — Harry Potter is almost my peer.

I don’t think I need to recap the ending of Harry Potter here, but J.K. Rowling also constructed a masterful conclusion to the series. Say what you will about the epilogue (and the beastly names Harry and his friends decided to burden their children with), but after racing through roughly 3,800 pages never sure what exactly would happen, worrying about the lives of fictional characters, it was a relief to see Harry fathering some children and getting some small slice of happiness.

And even before then, there is no better chapter in the entire series than Chapter 36, “The Flaw in the Plan.” Everyone starts off thinking Harry is dead, you see Neville Longbottom show off just why he was sorted into Gryffindor, you see everyone get into a monstrously amazing battle, Molly Weasley screams “NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” and kills Bellatrix Lestrange, finally culminating in Harry putting the smackdown on Lord Voldemort.

I’m a writer, so I’m naturally moved most by a really good story. For me, what makes a story entirely worth it is the ending. When you experience a story through any medium, you invest a lot of time into it. Waiting for the ending is tantalizing, and if it is good, if it is satisfying, it makes that time worth it. One of my problems with the Twilight series (yes, I read it all) was that the ending just didn’t pay off, not in any of the books, nor in the series as a whole. Yes, Bella and Edward end up with their happily ever after, but that’s never seriously in jeopardy. Breaking Dawn sets up what could be a real impressive feat for the Twilight saga: all these vampires and werewolves are lining up, and getting ready for some final struggle. And then Bella just shows everyone how cute her baby is and they go away. The end.

I’m not saying every story needs to end with a climactic final battle like Avatar or Harry Potter, but to have plot one must have conflict. Conflict is only resolved with a struggle, even if it’s an internal one, like Huckleberry Finn deciding fine, forget everything I know, I’ll go after Jim. They can be external struggles, like Harry versus Lord Voldemort, or Aang versus Fire Lord Ozai. Really good stories (or at least the ones I love) feature a mixture of internal and external conflict.

That strong rush of feelings I got when I finished the last episode of Avatar, the intense emotions I felt upon closing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows — those are times when I really feel alive and the full extent of what being human entails, even if it’s only vicariously experienced. I’m a writer because I want to try and get others to feel that same rush of feelings I do when I finish something really, really good.

So don’t wimp out on an ending. Don’t pull a Twilight and avoid a bloodbath just because you think that would be sad. Be like J.K. Rowling, don’t be afraid to let some important things be lost, so the price of the conflict’s resolution is apparent.

And that is what makes a good ending.

(Originally posted on my LiveJournal.)

On Agents

One of the scariest and most exciting emails a prospective writer can get is the one from a literary agent that says, "I like how this sounds, can I see more?"

I went almost six months of not hearing anything positive from agencies about Seafear -- a lot of no responses, and almost the rest form rejections. Then, I got my first ever request for a full. For those who don't speak publishing, a full is exactly what it sounds like -- a request to see your full manuscript. So I sent out Seafear.

It was ultimately rejected, but less than two weeks later, I got a second request for a full. I think I'm onto something now.

Several Things

Goodness it has been a while since I posted here. This is largely because I've moved my blogging to LiveJournal, but I'm suddenly motivated to continue using this blog. Why? Primarily because it's the first thing that pops up when you Google "Seafear." Being the first result for a Google search is a very good thing, especially when you discover that someone bought a trademark on the term "Sea Fear" in March 2010.

I'm going to try and figure out how to link the two blogs together, because it's very important that I keep on top of this thing and continue to be the first result for Google searches for "Seafear."

Oh, and also, agents have been responsive now. So there's that, my non-existent readers.