Do Great Writers Know the Ending First?

Note From KMW: One of the big debates in writing is whether great writers know the ending first before they ever start drafting. Some writers thrive on the certainty of a clear destination, while others prefer to let the journey unfold organically. But which approach leads to the strongest stories?

Personally, I’ve never sat down to write an outline, much less a first draft, without at least thinking I knew the general ending. However, there’s no one-size-fits-all answer. This is why understanding the pros and cons of each method can help you find the right balance for your own process. A solid ending can provide direction and focus, but some writers find that too much rigidity stifles creativity. On the other hand, writing without a planned ending can lead to exciting discoveries—but also to meandering plots and frustrating rewrites.

Today, I’m pleased to share a post from Daryl Rothman, who shares convincing examples from both sides of the road. Whether you’re a meticulous plotter or a spontaneous discovery writer, his insights can help you understand how knowing (or not knowing) your ending will shape your creative process.

***

In This Article:

John Irving once noted:

I write the last line, and then I write the line before that. I find myself writing backwards for a while, until I have a solid sense of how that ending sounds and feels. You have to know what your voice sounds like at the end of the story, because it tells you how to sound when you begin.

The World According to Garp by John Irving (affiliate link)

Hard to poke holes in his rationale, or his success with The Cider House Rules and The World According to Garp, to name but a few. Irving elaborated that he types the words and sends them as postcards to close friends (some who noted that not nary a punctuation mark evolved from conception to publication). Irving added:

You have to know what your voice sounds like at the end of the story because it tells you how to sound when you begin.

This topic evokes some immediate lines in the sand. I remember being called a pantser years ago. “Hey,” I recall protesting, in homage to Larry Fine, “I resemble that remark.” Of course, the moniker referred not to any propensity for yanking down the trousers of a mortified fellow human but rather, my tendency to favor a measure of spontaneity over assiduous plotting. In truth, I typically end up somewhere in between, or a little of everything, but the matter of pantser vs. plotter has its ardent adherents, including many who stand squarely with Irving.

Margaret Mitchell famously wrote Gone with the Wind backwards, penning the saddest parts of the Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara saga before adjudicating the details of their tumultuous relationship. Mitchell wrote the book’s final moments of grief and loss first. She said:

I left them to their ultimate fate.

In a 2011 NPR interview, Joanna Arietta, director of historic houses for the Atlanta History Center and Margaret Mitchell House, noted:

She knew at the very beginning that Rhett wasn’t going to care that much and that Scarlett was going to live for another day

Mitchell shared:

“I had every detail clear in my mind before I sat down to the typewriter. I believe… that is the best way to write a book—then your characters can’t get away from you and misbehave, and do things you didn’t intend them to do in the beginning.

The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket by Edgar Allan Poe (affiliate link)

Even my beloved Edgar Allan Poe believed the finest writers composed their work with an understanding of the story’s end and the impact it should have on readers. Inclined toward the short story, Poe’s lone completed novel, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, contains an italicized trail of phrases for the reader to track, foreshadowing the story’s end. These impart the feel of a conceptual short story and further illustrate that the end of his tales remained always front of mind.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling (affiliate link)

JK Rowling wrote the last chapter of the seventh and final Harry Potter book, The Deathly Hallows, around the same time she conceived the idea for the first:

I’ve always planned seven books. These books have been plotted for such a long time, and for six books now, that they’re all leading a certain direction.

Once again, tough to argue with the staggering success her roadmap yielded.

There are countless more adherents, yet this is hardly a decided debate. Rather, it is freighted with the impassioned druthers of some dissenting heavyweights.

Do All Great Writers Plan Their Endings? A Different Perspective

In 2011, The Guardian revealed Great Expectations as readers’ favorite Dickens novel, yet his original ending may well have evoked a different sentiment. The initial version sees an unmarried Pip briefly reunite with Estella in London, finding she has been widowed and remarried, dashing all hope of ending up together.

Great Expectations (2012), Lionsgate.

Roald Dahl’s first iteration of Matilda was something of a cautionary tale, and didn’t even feature the bookish heroine readers came to know and love. Matilda was a naughty, unruly child (Veruca Salt anyone?) who pranked those around her and perished in the end of the book as penance for her cruelty. Fans may give thanks that Dahl’s final version changed course, softening our beloved protagonist.

Matilda the Musical (2022), Netflix.

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway (affiliate link)

And then there’s Hemingway’s 47 potential conclusions to A Farewell to Arms. This classic famously ends,

After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.

Simple and sparse, inimitable Hemingway. But it would not have been had he rigidly held to one of his myriad previous conclusions.

Stephen King, one of the most prolific authors of all time, recoils at the idea of obedient plotting, feeling it extinguishes creative embers, and stunts the organic growth of the characters you have brought into the world. Most of his ideas arise from simple questions he posits, often beginning with “What if?,” and building from the possibilities that subsequently manifest. Salem’s Lot clawed its way to life from one such query: “What if vampires invaded a small New England village?” So too with Cujo: “What if a young mother and her son became trapped in their stalled car by a rabid dog?”

Salem’s Lot (2024), HBO Max

Plotter vs. Pantser: Which Writing Method Works Best?

It is said that a friend once visited James Joyce as he wrote, inquiring upon arrival the source of the scribe’s obvious vexation. Of course it was the work, as always. “How many words did you get today?” queried the visitor. “Seven,” replied Joyce. “Seven? But James… that’s good, at least for you.” “Yes,” Joyce at last assented, before lamenting, “But I don’t know what order they go in!”

I think many writers can relate to the challenge of determining sequence and structure across an entire manuscript.

So, who’s right? Pantsers or plotters? Is it better to set down your stakes straight away, finish line forever in sight, or at least in mind—or to wing it, to breathe life into your story and its inhabitants and sit back and enjoy the ride?

The question, of course, is flawed. Hopefully, all writers have learned, even if they harbor a preference, that there is no one right way. We have heard here from only a smattering of notable scribes who have found smashing success on either side of the fence. The achievement of one approach clearly cannot be said to belie that of the other. You must find what works for you (and it might not always be the same, project to project, or as your literary journey progresses).

Sense of Style by Steven Pinker (affiliate link)

I wrote a piece questioning blind adherence to some of writing’s “rules,” and referred in the piece to Dr. Steven Pinker, noted Harvard linguist, author, psychologist, and cognitive scientist, who in his The Sense of Style challenges some of these sacred cows. My article focused on the great debate around word choice, and in an email exchange with Pinker, he agreed that the “Puritanical advice” which tends to undergird many style manuals and writing rules “is overdone.”

>>Click here to read The Rules of Fiction: What They Are and What They’re Not

So don’t box yourself in. Experiment.

Gospel by Daryl Rothman (affiliate link)

I like to have an overall idea of story and perhaps the endgame or some goalposts, but leave the road along the way uncluttered by excessive plotting. I credit King’s practice of posing key questions. From that ember of a possibility can ignite a roaring blaze of story, character, and conflict.

King’s “key question” approach has worked well for me, especially if I further the “What if” inquiry to include something like, “but is prevented (from main objective) by….” But even if I fancy knowing the result, I humble myself sufficiently to remain open to a change, perhaps even a big one. Our stories and our characters are our babies, yes, but sometimes you must “kill your darlings,” as King famously said. Or at the very least, follow their lead.

I remember as a kid reading and then watching Shane, and when little Joey is running through the graveyard toward the climactic showdown of the film, my father said softly, “And a child shall lead them.” (A little Isaiah 11: 6 for you.)

Truth be told, it stuck with me, more for the literary lesson. My story is my baby, just as is each character. I have breathed life into them and must ultimately follow their lead, providing what guidance I can. I am not their puppet master, nor they my obedient marionettes, dancing upon my every pull of the string or punch of the keyboard. Give your characters life. Imbue them with some defining traits, build out your world a bit, and set them free upon it.

Outlining Your Novel (Amazon affiliate link)

I do outline a bit, though at the beginning I keep it fairly broad and flexible. I may outline further as I go along and I see where the story and the characters are taking me. I may jot reminders or ideas for upcoming scenes. But I try not to be intransigent: if upon arrival those ideas or scenes no longer fit, or need some tweaking, I make a course correction.

Everyone has an ego; I definitely do. Writing is one of the few things I believe I do well, and it has transpired more than once that I pen something, even a paragraph, I think to be well-written, even masterful, but there is that gnawing sense it simply doesn’t fit. It isn’t true to the story or perhaps the character. I hem and haw, grumble and groan, perhaps let slip a few nice expletives (talk about word choice), but know in my heart to leave out the misplaced verbiage.

On the other hand, I don’t like to start with nothing, rudderless, no notes, no ideas, my writerly trousers tugged down to my ankles. I typically conjure something of a roadmap but remain open to the number of detours I’m apt to encounter along the way. Flexibility within structure.

Best wishes finding the approach best for you. No better way in the end than to keep working. Good luck in your journey. Write on!

In Summary

The debate between plotters and pantsers—whether to plan a story meticulously or allow it to unfold organically—has been central to many famous authors’ writing processes. Writers like John Irving, Margaret Mitchell, and J.K. Rowling have spoken about how knowing the ending first can help inform their writing. However, authors like Stephen King emphasize a more spontaneous approach, allowing the story to develop naturally. Ultimately, there’s no one-size-fits-all approach. Writers must find what works best for them and adapt as their creative process evolves.

Key Takeaways

• Plotting vs. Pantsing: Some writers prefer to plan their endings first, believing it guides the rest of the story, while others discover the ending as they write.
• Famous Authors’ Approaches: John Irving, Margaret Mitchell, and J.K. Rowling all believed in starting with the ending to ensure a cohesive narrative, while authors like Stephen King take a more exploratory approach.
• Flexibility is Key: Whether you plot or pants, remaining flexible allows your story and characters to evolve naturally.
• No Right Answer: The best method depends on the writer and the specific project. It’s important to experiment and find what works for you.

Wordplayers, tell us your opinions! Do you think great writers plan their endings first, or do you prefer to let the story unfold organically? Tell us in the comments!