Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 199

You guys,

I hate poorly written endings. 

Essays are often wrapped in a bow with summaries, cliche wisdom, or empty promises. I was venting about this to a writer friend, Dylan. He slowly nodded and put what I said into one perfect phrase that I would be talking about for the next two years: “It’s like their Live Laugh Love Moment.” 

Live Laugh Love is much akin to Bless This House, Family is Forever, or this gem: In this house we are real we make mistakes we say I'm sorry we forgive we have fun we are really loud we give hugs we love.

Can you believe people hang these cliches in their homes?

Not only can we buy these phrases for $8 at TJ Maxx, we can also find them at the end of our essays. I say ‘our’ because even after recognizing this phenomenon, even after teaching people how not to do it, I still unknowingly write them in my drafts. 

You know it’s a Live Laugh Love Moment when you start almost singing it, as if reading the last lines of a children’s book, like this: 

“There are challenges every day and every day I fail and every day I apologize to George. Each time I apologize I show George what it means to be vulnerable.” 

What does that even mean? It’s vague and non-specific and could have been written by anyone. 

Also be on the lookout for words like “will” or “plan to” or “next time.” Whenever you start talking about the future you’ve entered a LLL Moment, like this:

“I will still bake my self-proclaimed famous cookies this holiday season, but only a few batches and only for family. Which means I won’t hijack the kitchen for six hours at a time and say things to Sam like, ‘I still have so much to do!’ To which he will respond, ‘So don’t bake cookies for everyone!’”

My intentions don’t mean shit and they’re boring, anyway. 

So how do we fix LLL Moments? What do we do with these endings that are a total drag? 

The ending should surprise me or make me laugh. I want to be reading, reading, reading, and then BAM, it’s over like Space Mountain and I want to ride again, not like “It’s A Small World” and I’m like OMG get me off this thing I never want to hear this song for the rest of my life.

Here’s an example where I was headed toward a LLL Moment but then turned a 180º at the end:

“My authentic self does not make me feel like a piece of shit human for throwing a fit. All she ever does is love me and hug me and tell me everything will be okay. 

She’s really quite annoying.” 

Go for the zinger and bring a smile to the reader’s face, or, my favorite way to finish strong—end with a scene. It might circle back to a previous anecdote or might be related to something you’ve already written about. It’s action, dialogue, something where I show and don’t tell. The last lines should be written with my senses. What can I see, hear, smell, taste, touch? 

Let’s go back to the example with George. Rather than speak generally about everyday challenges I told a story of an actual morning with George. I showed what happened, what was said, what I could see with my eyes. In the cookie example, rather than talk about what I would do next time I went back to the moment when I made the decision, which also circled back to a previous anecdote: “I was standing in the street thinking of the upcoming holiday when I detected the dread. Cookies, time, neighbors, ugh.” 

It’s not a bow-tied conclusion, it’s just a satisfying button at the end that feels like a good place to stop. Maybe it finishes a story that was unfinished. Maybe it illustrates a point you’ve been trying to make. Maybe it mirrors something from earlier in the piece.

You’d think after focusing on the Live Laugh Love Moment phenomenon for two years there’s no way I would have one of these signs in my home. 

But shortly after we moved into our house my husband suggested we get a sign in our kitchen. 

A sign? Really? 

Fine, I relented. But it will not be a cliche. It will be cool and original (just like our son’s name that three years later sits at the top of the predicted list for most popular baby names in 2024). 

We purchased a simple white sign with black letters for $45 on Etsy that says Process vs. Outcome and hung it above our window. The next day we looked up and it was crooked.

Everything happens for a reason.

—

Until next week,

Charlie

***

Oh, the pressure to write a good ending for this piece! It was my friend, writer, and editor extraordinaire, Michael Dean, who prompted me with the question, Do you have any of these signs in your home? Because I had not even been thinking of that as a potential ending. Even after that prompt I still rewrote the ending seven times, harassing Michael the entire time through our WhatsApp chat.

Speaking of Michael Dean, he’s been the editor behind many of my favorite essays (The Pseudonymous Cape, Wake Train Your Baby, From Pain To Personal Growth), and starting yesterday he’s offering his services to EVERYONE. If you want to take your writing skills to the next level and craft essays like an architect, you can sign up here. I’ve never signed up so fast for something.

One more shoutout to my Cantina buddies, Steven, Rick, and Camilo, who made me question everything I’d written and hurled me into the depths of despair.