We don’t have cable TV (I know…long story), so I haven’t watched the Sopranos, but I certainly didn’t miss the recent uproar over the go-to-black-screen non-ending. No doubt it’s true the producer wanted to end Tony Soprano’s story as it ran—messy, confusing, and realistic. Judging by fan comments, viewers felt cheated. At least two women quoted in interviews complained they had invested years of their lives in the show and for what?

            So, let’s talk about endings.

Years ago, when Duane Newcomb and Bud Gardner held their exhilarating Sierra Writer’s Camp, I was lucky enough to join a class in writing for children taught by Eve Bunting whose career was just taking off. I’d brought a picture book manuscript—my first venture into the land of children’s books. The story sprang from nonfiction research into the history of natural dyes.

I’d run into an article about women in western Africa who taught young girls to use indigo leaves to dye cloth made in their village. Because she feels unnoticed next to other indigo dyers, my young character Iman wants to tie the most beautiful pattern ever seen in the village, but she’s impatient in having to begin training with plain untied cloth. Eventually, when all appears to be lost, the cloth she leaves in the vat for too long provides her solution.

I thought the story ended with the trader assuring Iman, “Someday, I believe you will tie the most beautiful pattern the village has ever seen.”

Eve suggested a further step, one showing that Iman learned from her experience and would act more wisely in the future. Here is the final page as published by Children’s Press, an ending reviewers especially noted: “Iman gave her mother a big hug. Then she ran across the sun-patterned earth to ask her grandmother what she could learn next. Her feet sent dust puffs sparkling in the sun. And she didn’t feel invisible at all.”

In writing for children, the last thing you want is for the ending to drag. It’s essential that you balance reflection with action. So we have Iman no longer feeling invisible, but also running to ask what she can learn next. The story feels complete. We’re not left asking, and then what?

In a science fiction/fantasy book for young readers, I had a girl called Jelly and her city friend Rich accidentally caught aboard an odd-looking houseboat that appeared in the Sacramento Delta. The crew turns out to be space travelers who have disguised themselves as somewhat inept flower children from the ‘70s. Jelly is a self-proclaimed “river rat” who is most at home when up to her cut-offs in the river, digging bait clams from the sand with her toes. She doesn’t much trust Rich and has a really tough time learning to trust this group.

At the end, she not only helps them to their destination and manages to become reunited with her older brother, but she takes an extra step. She gives a river chart from her brother’s boat to the alien captain to help in their further explorations. This one last story step shows she has overcome her distrust of strangers and no longer judges people by their appearances.

In a picture book for a younger preschool age, BEARS ON CHAIRS which will be published by Candlewick Press in 2009, the story fell naturally into rhyme with every line ending with “bears” or a sound-alike word. When the bears eventually solve their problem of more bears than chairs, I thought the story was over. My editor asked for more. She wanted a final stanza showing Big Brown Bear happy with the solution.

The story now ends, “Here’s hugs to share/from Big Brown Bear,” before the final two lines. Brief, but it adds a warm feeling of completion. The reader knows there will be no more rivalry. The bears are all happy, even the one who caused the trouble.

In ONE FROG SANG, my counting book recently published by Candlewick Press, the frogs begin to sing one group at a time until a car goes by and they fall silent again, one group at a time in descending order. There is a double page spread of suspenseful stillness. Then one big frog leaps to the high garden wall, sucks in air and blows out sound. The possible danger has passed. All is right in the frog’s world and the satisfied child listener says the words every picture book writer wants to hear, “Let’s read it again.”

A favorite “how-to” book, published several years ago, is by former editor/author Ellen E. M. Roberts. In THE CHILDRENS PICTURE BOOK, How to Write It, How to Sell It, Roberts warns writers against ending their story prematurely. We must take care to pull together the threads of plot, character and motivation.

Roberts states, “A good character promises a good beginning, a good plot promises a good ending, but only good writing can bring them together in a coherent whole.”

The Sopranos may have ended on a note right for them. I think the jury of public opinion is still out on that. As for you and me, let’s not leave our readers with a black screen wondering, then what happened? Let’s tell them or better show them not only how it ends, but how our characters feel about that and how they will use what they’ve learned. Let’s give our audience an ending that lets them close the book with a smile and a sense of time well spent.

I hope you will visit my website, www.shirleyparenteau.com. If you will be in the Sacramento area on July 17^th, I would love to meet you. I will be sharing ONE FROG SANG during 11 a.m. Storytime at Barnes & Noble, 1256 Galleria Boulevard, Roseville, California. This event will be tied to the library’s summer reading program with a portion of the proceeds going to that program.