I’ve been reading a collection of top Science Fiction short stories. Probably because it’s on the Kindle, I haven’t been jumping around the stories, just working my way through them in order. I’ve read four so far and enjoyed them all, except for one common fault: their endings suck!

            I feel like I’ve been Wile E Coyoted right over the cliff edge: I look down and realise there’s nothing there, then plummet to – might as well milk the analogy – rock bottom.

            In the case of one story, I actually turned over the Kindle, convinced it must be continuing on the back. Which, let’s face it, is about as intelligent as the man in the audience who got offended by a ventriloquist’s act so went on stage and punched the dummy . . .

            I feel that two of the stories represent the polar ends of the problem; the pole itself I’ll call Drive. Let’s call one end Character Drive and the other Plot Drive.

            At the start of the first story, which I would say is an example of Character Drive, the main character has what at first he thinks is a chance meeting with an old associate. They’re in a European city, let’s say Berlin for the sake of this article. In the opening pages, we’re introduced to an alternative Europe and USA that have experienced different kinds of revolutions. We also meet a whole posse of the hero’s friends, and his wife; get shown their apartment; we sit in on several long discussions between his friends and the ‘chance’ acquaintance, who slowly reveals his master plan . . . We also get lots of interesting details about post-revolution Berlin. Then the story moves to a mass demonstration in which a fantastic display of new technology may or may not have taken place –

            – and here we’ll pause for a moment, because at this point we’re nearly at the limit of words that normally constitute a short story. Yet I’m aware of several lines of the story that are still wide open, both at plot and character level. The hero’s wife, for example, has a job she hates but which is safe: will she break out and do something she’s more passionate about? Will the revolution(s) be overturned? And so on.

            But what actually happens is that after the demonstration, all our characters retire to a bar to discuss whether or not the display they’ve just witnessed is genuine. The hero has a flash of inspiration and realises that the demonstration was intended to mask the German’s real technological discovery and –

            – and that’s it. The story just stops. But, but, but – I want to know what happened to all these new, interesting people I’ve just met, and the unusual worlds in which they live, and the wife’s job, and, and, and –

            It reminds me of the old Russian folk story where the devil makes a deal with a farmer: that he can have all the land he’s able to walk around in a day. But if he’s not back by sunset, the devil takes his soul.

            So the farmer starts out at dawn and it being a long summer’s day, he heads out wide, figuring he’s got plenty of time to circle back. He’s relaxed; he takes in lots of details, extends his circle a little to include that especially fertile-looking meadow over there; then that dark, mysterious wood his children will enjoy playing in; and, oh, let’s have that bend in the river, too, where he can sell the fishing rights . . . and a little further out he goes again.

            But he notices that the sun is directly overhead and his circle is not half-way drawn yet. So he thinks he’d better flatten out the return curve and speed up a little. But he can’t resist fanning out just a little more to include that rich-looking peat bog, and that stand of valuable oak . . .

            Before he knows it, the sun is setting behind his home hill, and the devil’s long shadow is directly in front of him. With horror, he runs, all thought of endless profit gone from his mind. But he’s too late: just before he reaches the devil, the sun disappears below the horizon . . .

            On the other hand, there would have been a different problem, story-wise, if the farmer had instead sprinted out in a long, frugal oval, diligently turning back at noon (or just before) and rushing back to make sure his soul was safe.

            Which brings me on to the other end of this particular bar, to Plot Drive.

            My other story example starts with a murder. The killer could be a female robot that looks and acts exactly like a human. Two cops are on the case, male and female. They have to interrogate the robot which must answer their questions truthfully; in fact, she shouldn’t be able to do anything else. And yet, there is more than a hint that she might have been thinking for herself . . . The story thunders along, setting up a fascinating scenario where the robot will testify in court, where her guilt or innocence depends on just how human she has become. The female cop goes home to prepare for the court case and –

            – it just stops! No court case, no decision . . .

            This was the story that had me turning over the Kindle, staring at the blank scene, going, “No, no, no!”

            Both stories should probably have been novels. Both drove off the cliff edge – one like a sprinting Wile E Coyote, the other like the Magical Mystery Tour bus that just didn’t manage to turn in time.

            One was mainly overcome, I think, by Character Drive, the other by Plot Drive.

            But here I should pause again for a moment to reflect. Both stories sold to very good magazines, and both were selected for a top collection. So does it matter that they don’t end satisfactorily? (For me, at least.)

            Whether or not the authors intended to finish where they did is difficult to tell, but my writer’s gut instinct is that they didn’t actually plan it that way. I suspect they set out on their different drives then at some point had to make the decision whether to extend into a novella or novel. Or to cut things short.

            I’m sure both authors could argue convincingly about why they ended where they did. And these are the decisions writers have to make, which are rarely totally right or totally wrong. However, I do feel that where short stories are concerned, they’re more likely to fully satisfy readers if the author has pitched his mind to an ending before he starts to write. This can be the expression of a fine feeling, the conclusion of a set of meaningful actions, or the making of a moral point. He then draws his story-mind along the line connecting the start with the finish.

            He may in fact subvert the ending when he gets there. Or take it a couple of steps further.

            But what he doesn’t do is Coyote over the cliff edge.