And the Moral of the Story is...

            Most literary works have a message.  It may not be a deliberate one, it may not be one that hits you over the head, but it’s there.  Othello’s message is how jealousy can destroy us.  Hamlet shows us the tragedy of dishonesty and revenge. The Great Gatsby is about the emptiness of elitism and decadence. Huckleberry Finn teaches us about honor and living naturally.  Of course there are other themes, but those are a few of the lessons we take away when we read these classics.  And you can find hundreds of messages in the books and movies you know.  Power corrupts.  Infidelity destroys families.  Kindness is its own reward.  Hard work pays off.  And so on.

            We watch characters learn hard lessons, we see villains get their due (or not), we feel inspired by selfless acts.  So I’m not going to tell you to take the “point” out of your stories.  But it has to distill upon the reader as he genuinely cares about your characters.  It has to be a conclusion reached without billboards blasting, “Here comes the main point!”  Events in your story have to lead us along, making us wiser without our even realizing it.

            Winston Churchill once said, “I am always ready to learn although I do not always like being taught.”  That’s the kind of careful sharing of a message I want you to strive for.  No heavy-handed preaching, or “and the moral of the story is,” as if you’re Aesop, writing a fable.  Don’t have characters say, “Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” or “I guess I’ll never do that again!”   

And don’t feel you must tidy up every loose end, making sure the good guys get their reward and the bad guys get punished.  Life is rarely so clean, so black and white.  The reader will still learn from the harm that resulted when a crazy person went on a shooting spree.  They don’t have to see the shooter twist in the wind.  Often the most satisfying ending shows a character’s inner contentment at having done right; he doesn’t have to get even, or be openly acclaimed or rewarded.  That, in itself, is a good lesson. 

Some writers say, “But I don’t have an objective; I just want to show the seamy side of the circus (or the big city, or mafia life, or whatever).”  You still need a story.  The seamy side is a setting.  Something has to happen there, something we care about.  And the minute we care, we’re learning.  That’s what gives a story redeeming value. Even if all your characters are consumed by greed and die in the end, that’s a tragedy that teaches us something. It’s why we go to movies, read books, and see plays.  Like Churchill, though we may dislike being taught, we all love to learn.