On Writing Romance (35 page)

This important aspect of the switch, this painful sharing — honesty with no certainty of a good result — assures the readers that the relationship is important enough to both characters that they will not treat it lightly in the future, or endanger the love they've come so close to losing.

The switch usually takes place within the last ten pages of the book, leaving just enough room for tying up all the loose ends and for the readers to wallow in the satisfaction that this pair has finally made it to a happy ending.

After thousands of words and hundreds of pages in which the hero and heroine have been denying their feelings for each other, or at least not admitting them to each other, it's surprisingly difficult to make your main characters say things like “I love you” and “Will you marry me?” But it's very important in the romance novel that they actually verbalize these feelings, not leave them to the readers to assume.

Both hero and heroine must actually declare their feelings, a proposal must be made and answered, and how these things are done must fit the main characters. A hero who has joked his way through the entire story may get serious at the end, but he won't become somber — and even his most sincere proposal is likely to contain a touch of fun.

Tanya Michaels uses just such a touch of humor to finish off her romantic comedy
The Maid of Dishonor
:

Since this couple's courtship has been anything but ordinary, it's fitting that the hero's proposal is a bit of a tease as well.

The exception to the need for a declaration of love is in chick-lit, where the happy ending isn't always a permanent commitment. Even there, however, it's a good idea to show an increased level of trust or sharing between the main characters because of what they've been through together.

In her paranormal chick-lit novel
Undead and Unemployed
, MaryJanice Davidson leaves her vampire heroine uncertain of the hero's exact feelings for her. Because the book is part of a series, making clear the status of the relationship between Betsy and Sinclair would reduce the zest of future books:

Though Davidson leaves the relationship unresolved, the strong hint of Sinclair's deeper feelings will help draw the readers into the next book of the series. Notice that despite having come close to oblivion, the heroine finishes the story with her signature sassy style, voice, and attachment to fashion, echoing earlier themes in the book.

Inadequate endings come in many shapes and forms, but most of them fail to satisfy because they don't keep the emphasis on the main characters, or they show the characters acting inconsistently, or they tell rather than show the action.

Some common inadequate endings include:

• The drawing room ending.
  The main character (or worse, a secondary character) assembles everyone together like the detective in an old mystery in order to explain what really happened. Explanation is far weaker than showing the characters taking action.
  

• The surprise ending.
  This ending will fall flat if the surprise isn't really startling or the readers have been able to anticipate it. If the story has been about saving a historic structure and in the last chapter the wealthy hero decides simply to buy it, there's not much novelty in the solution.
  

• The going-off-on-a-tangent ending.
  The ending has nothing to do with the rest of the story. If the entire story has been about whether the heroine should take a particular job or go back to school for her degree, but in the end she decides to sell everything and backpack around the world, the readers will be left scratching their heads and wondering where that idea came from.
  

• The unresolved ending.
  This ending leaves important issues or big points of disagreement hanging. If the big problem has been a disagreement between hero and heroine over whether to move across the country, but in the end the couple postpones the decision indefinitely, the readers won't be satisfied.
  

• The assistance-from-outside ending.
  Forces outside the main characters solve the problem when the hero and heroine should do it themselves. If the couple has been chasing a criminal, but it's the police who make the capture without the couple's involvement, the ending will feel limp. The ideal resolution would show both main characters deeply involved in bringing justice to the bad guy, even if the authorities are the ones who actually handcuff him and haul him away.
  

• The brought-about-by-others ending.
  Only the stage-managing of other characters forces the hero and heroine to set foot in the same room again. While secondary characters may be tangentially involved in the ending, it's best if the readers believe that eventually the heroic couple would have come together and settled their differences without interference. Unless it's clear that the hero and heroine work out their problems by themselves, it's tough to convince the readers that they can have a workable partnership over the long term.
  

• The fate ending.
  Fate or angels or the gods step in to solve the problem. Miracle cures of supposedly terminal illnesses fit in this category, as do villains who are conveniently killed in car accidents rather than being forced by the hero and heroine to face the consequences of their actions. The conclusion should come about as a direct result of the main characters' actions.
  

All satisfactory endings have something in common — they grow naturally out of elements that are already present in the story; they don't introduce new ideas or go off in new directions. For instance:

• The circular ending.
  This ending reveals a character's growth and development by exposing him anew to a situation or activity that occurred at the story's beginning and showing the difference in the character's reaction. For example, at the beginning of the story, the heroine walks down Chicago's Magnificent Mile, enjoying the city's bustle and noise. At the end, she takes the same walk, but because of the way she has changed over the course of the story, she now finds the bustle overwhelming and the noise intrusive.
  

• The building-on-a-theme ending.
  It can be very effective to drop a comment, question, or reference into the story at irregular intervals and then allow that same theme to form the ending. In Elizabeth Bevarly's single title
  You've Got Male
  , her hero is a spy who has used multiple names but who refuses to utter his code name; he has even threatened the co-workers who know it, to keep them from actually using it:
  

  “I love you, Dixon. I love you, Oliver. I love you no matter who you are or what you are or where you are. And I will love you forever.” He lifted a hand to her face, cupping her jaw gently in his palm. “Binky,” he said.
  

  She narrowed her eyes at him.
  

  “That's my code name,” he told her, smiling. “Binky.”
  

  She chuckled. “Hence the reason why no one lives to talk about it after saying it.”
  

  “You could say it and live,” he promised.
  

  She lifted her hand to his face, too, brushing her fingertips over his rough beard.
  

  “Nah, I kind of like you as Dixon,” she said. She smiled. “But who knows what I might call out in a moment of heated passion.”
  

  He quirked up one dark brow. “We could find out.”
  

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, we could.”
  

  And in a moment of heated passion — several moments of heated passion, in fact — they did.
  

  Since the hero's code name has been such a big thing through the story, referred to a half-dozen times, his sharing it with the heroine is a unique expression of trust. The readers are reassured about the couple's future, because if he'll tell her that embarrassing bit of information, there will be no important things kept secret.
  

• The unanticipated ending.
  This ending offers a solution the readers don't see coming. If the readers can guess the compromise, the emotional appeal of the ending is minimized, and the readers are likely to think the characters should have figured this out long ago. But the effective surprise ending isn't really a surprise when the readers stop to think about it — it's simply an unexpected twist on a theme that was already present in the story.
  

The very end of the book — the last couple of paragraphs — is the place where even the most disciplined of writers is apt to slide into sloppy purple prose. Just as it's easy to start a story too early, it's also tempting to go on too long in the end. That perfect last line isn't easy to find — and in romances, authors have a tendency to get more sentimental, cloying, and sickly sweet with each sentence.

The last few lines should match the tone of the rest of the book. If the story has been frothy and humorous, then the last few lines should have that same upbeat, happy note. If the story has been dark and painful, then the last few lines should be very deep and emotional.

In her inspirational romance
Promise of Forever
, Patt Marr makes sure to draw the spiritual elements of the story into the ending:

Since the hero's reluctance to put his faith in a higher power has been an issue for this couple throughout the story, bringing this thread into the ending adds a spiritual theme to the conflict resolution.

When you've written what you think is the last sentence, go back and look at the last page. The odds are you've written a stronger ending line five or six paragraphs back — one that is crisp and better suited to the story in tone and subject matter.

If either the hero or the heroine has given up something of enormous importance for the sake of the other, or if both have agreed to great changes in lifestyle in order to maintain the relationship, it may be a good idea to add an epilogue to show how things are working out after a period of time.

Another good use of an epilogue is when the story ends with the heroine pregnant — or when the conflict has included doubts over whether the couple can have children — in order to show the new arrival.

But an epilogue should not just show the new couple meeting all the family members and bring everyone's stories up to date. In her single title
The Backup Plan
, Sherryl Woods uses an epilogue to show that though her journalist heroine has stopped being a war correspondent in order to marry her hero, she hasn't given up the thrill of chasing a story:

Though the heroine has given up a great deal for her hero, her attitude here and the fact that she's already established herself in a new job assures the readers that this woman won't resent or regret the decision she's made.