writing narrative text Imagine you’ve been at sea for days, sailing and sailing. It’s been an adventure, for sure, but you’re ready to plant your feet again on dry land. Finally, you make out the shore, in the distance; soon you will arrive—you’re just not there quite yet. For some narrative writers, spotting dry land is what the experience of finally reaching the conclusion of their narrative is like. The hard, creative work you’ve put in so far has got you to this exciting milestone, but you still have one section left to go. While it may seem like you’ve told most of your story and now you can kick back, it’s important to stay focused. A good conclusion can leave readers feeling gratified, as well as giving them a lot to reflect on. However, a conclusion that lacks energy or logic can frustrate and disappoint readers. Writing an Effective Conclusion The conclusion is the story’s resolution. It ties up loose ends and tells how the main character ultimately handles their problem. The conclusion also conveys what characters learned from their experience. Before narrative writers begin their conclusion, they reflect on the main character’s conflict and the most important events in the plot. As part of that process, writers often consider these questions: What loose ends might readers wonder about? Are there unanswered questions I need to answer? How can I show how the conflict has changed my main character?

Answer 1

As I steered the small sailboat through the final stretch of open sea, the horizon had shifted before me, revealing the outline of a distant shore. Days of salt and sun had painted my skin with a sun-kissed glow, and my muscles ached from the strain of the journey. The adventure had been exhilarating—each wave a challenge, each breeze an invitation to discover the power of nature. Yet, a magnetic pull drew me toward that shoreline, where I could finally sink my feet into solid ground.

With each passing minute, the jagged cliffs and sandy beaches sharpened into focus. I could almost hear the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by the breeze, the laughter of children playing along the coast, the distant call of seagulls tracing their circles in the sky. But as the reality of land drew near, I felt a familiar flutter in my chest—a mix of excitement and trepidation. The journey had tested my resolve, but it had also taught me lessons I was only now beginning to comprehend.

In the days that had blurred together on the water, I had faced not only the raw power of the sea but also my own inner storms. The solitude became a mirror reflecting my deepest fears and hopes. With every gust of wind that threatened to topple my small vessel, I was reminded of the challenges within my own heart. Hadn't I discovered more than just navigation skills? I had learned resilience, courage, and the importance of trusting the process, even when the destination felt endlessly out of reach.

And now, as I prepared for the docking, I couldn’t shake the feeling there were loose ends to tie. Had I truly conquered the turbulent waters? Had I reflected deeply enough on the lessons learned along the way? I thought of the moments when I had doubted myself, the times I nearly surrendered to the waves, and the small triumphs of steering back on course. These twists and turns made the adventure worthwhile, shaping my character in ways I hadn’t fully understood until now.

As I approached the shoreline, the ocean lapped gently against the hull—a reminder of the changing tides and the path taken. Soon, I would step off this ship and onto the sands, where my next journey awaited. I recalled the warm voices of friends and family who supported me from afar, believing in my ability to brave the unknown. Perhaps the conclusion of this voyage wasn't just about arriving but about transformation—the realization that I was no longer the person who had embarked on this adventure.

With a final push of energy, I guided the boat toward the waiting dock. I could almost hear the applause of the waves as my vessel lightly kissed the wooden planks. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of earth and salt. And there, with one foot in the boat and the other ready to step onto solid ground, I felt a surge of gratitude. “I’m home,” I whispered to myself, not just to a place but to the person who had emerged from the journey, ready for whatever lay ahead.

In this narrative, the conclusion wasn't merely an endpoint; it was a profound moment of realization that the adventure had changed me, and I was eternally grateful for all the trials that had led to this very landing.