Chapter Endings. They can make you or
break you as an author. I know a lot of authors sweat the first page. Not me. I
sweat the end of every chapter. Every. Single. One.
Why? The blame sits squarely on Suzanne
Collins (yes, of Hunger Games fame). Back when the Hooligans required their
nightly fill of stories before bedtime, we read everything from the classic The
Wonderful Wizard of Oz (spoiler alert: the shoes are really silver) to the more
modern YA books one of which was Collins’s Gregor the Overlander.
This series
is probably my favorite of all the modern books we read together. The author made every single chapter ending a straight up, nail-biting, gut-clenching cliffhanger.
The Hooligans were riveted, as was I, about the harrowing journey of a boy named Gregor who
stumbles into an underworld of New York City with his two-year-old baby sister Boots.
A great premise, sure, but the topper was her chapter endings. Hooligan 2 would get so
distraught if I tried to end the nightly reading after a cliffhanger that I
quickly learned to end reading time in the middle of a chapter.
Needless to say, as a writer, I knew what I
had to do – mind my chapter endings. And so, here is the first run at my ending for Chapter One from
my current WIP (Yes, I'm plopping you into the final two pages - good luck with that):
A FINE DAY FOR MURDER: A Library Lover’s Mystery.
“Are we late? I tried so hard to get here
on time but babies have their own schedules.” Mary Murphy hurried into the crafternoon room
with a baby in a sling across her chest and a padded bag the size of a small
car strapped to her back.
As if she knew she was the topic of the
conversation, the mini person strapped to Mary’s front shoved a tiny fist into
the air and let out a not so delicate wail.
“Josie’s here!” Nancy Peyton clapped her hands
together in delight.
Simultaneously, she and her best friend Violet LaRue rushed forward
as if they were in a race to see who could get their hands on the baby first.
Given that Violet was the taller of the two women and her stride longer, she
beat Nancy by an effectively placed boney elbow.
Mary plopped the baby into Violet’s hands
and dropped the bag onto the floor. She then collapsed onto the couch, looking
like she didn’t intend to move for the rest of the hour.
Both Beth Barker and Paula Turner moved forward to get
in line for their turn with the infant. Lindsey Norris did not. Lindsey was not really a
baby person. She didn’t have any younger siblings and had never babysat while
she was growing up. While a clean sleeping baby was an adorable thing to gaze
upon, when they got messy or wailed she found them somewhat terrifying.
She backed up to allow the others access
to the wee one. Little Josie did not seem to mind being passed around like a hot
dish at the dinner table, still Lindsey knew what was coming. Someone was going
to try and hand her the baby and Josie, knowing full well that Lindsey should
never be entrusted with such a delicate being, would begin to wail in a
desperate bid to be rescued. And Lindsey would not blame her one little bit.
She turned away from the group and studied
the scene out the window as if she was tracking an incoming storm on the bay. Short
of running out of the room, this was her best defense against having the baby
passed to her. Just the thought of holding the tiny human and her hands started
to sweat, which convinced her that she’d drop the baby who’d smash like an egg.
No, Lindsey figured she’d wait on the holding thing until Josie was walking or
talking or even better -- driving.
Big white fluffy clouds filled the sky.
Lindsey scanned them for any distinctive shapes. Dragons, they always looked like dragons. Her gaze shifted to the town park where she saw Dennis Greaves and Sam
Holloway, two of Briar Creek’s retired residents, sitting at their usual picnic
table, enjoying a game of checkers as they did every day around lunchtime.
Lindsey knew Dennis was a big Tom Clancy
reader while Sam only came into the library if he was looking for car repair
manuals. He was always fixing up vintage motors and the library had some
manuals going back almost a hundred years. The only reason Lindsey hadn’t thrown
them out was because Sam used them every now and again.
Across from Sam and Dennis, Theresa
Huston, the local tennis coach, was power walking through the park in her
bright turquoise running suit. She was one of Lindsey’s favorite patrons as
they shared a love of poetry, particularly Emily Dickinson. Lindsey would have
waved but she doubted Theresa could see her.
Hoping she was now safe from baby wrangling,
Lindsey started to turn back toward the room when she caught a movement out of
the corner of her eye. A car was speeding down Main Street, going way too fast
for the pedestrian friendly area. Lindsey glanced at the park and saw Theresa step
into the crosswalk, where pedestrians clearly had the right of way. Lindsey’s
heart thudded in her chest. She had the sick feeling that the car wasn’t going
to stop.
She tracked the car, thinking surely the driver
would see Theresa and slow down, but he didn’t. Instead of hitting the brakes,
the driver sped up. Horror flooded Lindsey as she realized Theresa was going to
get hit. She cried out and slapped her hands against the glass pane as if she
could push Theresa to safety just by willing it. She couldn’t.
With a sickening, bone crunching thump,
Theresa was struck by the car. Lindsey flinched as Theresa's body flew back onto the sidewalk, collapsing to
the ground as if she were a falling kite that's string had been cut. With a screech
of tires, the driver of the car took off.
Lindsey spun away from the window and bolted from the room, yelling, “Call nine-one-one! Theresa Huston was just hit by a
car!”
What about you, Reds? How do you handle chapter endings? Do they make you crazy or do you just end where it seems natural?
