Stories and dialogue
Fiction left hanging in the middle of a line. Continue a story from the point the page stops, finish a scene that breaks off mid-action, keep a dialogue going without changing either voice, and write the ending.
Scene that breaks off mid-action
For a scene that stops in the middle of something happening, carried on for three paragraphs in the same voice, with new details allowed.
The freight elevator stopped between the fourth and fifth floors, and Maya did the thing she always did in bad situations: she checked her phone, saw one bar, and put it away again. Somewhere above her a motor was ticking as it cooled. She counted to sixty, a trick her father had taught her, and when nothing happened she
counted to sixty again.The emergency button was the old kind, a red mushroom under a layer of dust. She pressed it and heard a bell go off far below, in a part of the building she had never seen, the loading dock maybe, where nobody worked past six. It rang for a while and then stopped on its own, as if it had thought better of the whole thing.Maya sat down with her back against the accordion gate. The motor ticked twice more. She decided she would give it ten minutes before she started yelling, and then she started yelling at four.
Dialogue that stops mid-exchange
For an exchange that breaks off in the middle of a line, continued in balanced back-and-forth without bringing in a single new character.
DEREK: You told them Thursday.MAYA: I told them Thursday because on Monday it was Thursday.DEREK: And now?MAYA: And now the vendor moved, and the warehouse moved, and the only thing that has not moved is the date I gave them.DEREK: So call them.MAYA: And say what, exactly. That we are sorry, again, in
the same voice we used in June?DEREK: Say the date is wrong. That is all they need in the first sentence. The apology can come second.MAYA: They will ask what the new date is.DEREK: Then give them one you can keep. Not the best case. The one you would bet your own money on.MAYA: Two weeks.DEREK: Three.MAYA: Three. And I say it out loud on the call before I can talk myself back down to two.
Story that needs its ending
For a story that has to be taken all the way to its last line rather than merely extended by another scene.
By August the house in Raleigh had sold, the boxes were in a storage unit off the highway, and Priya had run out of reasons to stay. She drove out to the lake one last time with her mother's letters in a shoebox on the passenger seat, unopened since March. The plan had been to read them there, at the table by the water, and then
decide something. She was no longer sure what.The table was gone. Someone had replaced it with a bench, bolted down, facing the wrong way. Priya sat on it anyway with the box on her knees and watched a man teach a kid to skip stones badly for twenty minutes.She did not open the letters. She drove back into town, rented the room above the bakery on Glenwood for a month, and put the shoebox on the windowsill where she would have to look at it every morning. It stayed closed until October. By then she had stopped calling it a plan and started calling it a year.