As you should likely know by now, Joshua and myself are big fans of H.P. Lovecraft. His mastery of horror and suspense is astounding, especially as it has held up so well against the test of time.

But what I like most about his books are his endings.

I talked before about how some people don’t enjoy endings that aren’t to a certain formula (where things are wrapped up neatly and, often, happily). That’s fine, and everyone has their preferences, but I would far rather a cliff hanger.

I absolutely love and adore wondering about things. Wondering about what happens next, what will the characters do, how it all ends. Those things make reading so rewarding and interesting for me, because it forces me to engage my own creativity and storytelling abilities.

We always want to do the same for our readers, as well. To let them feel more engaged and involved in the story telling process by leaving some things for them to discuss and decide.

Back before I knew Oryx and Crake was a trilogy, for instance, I absolutely loved the ending. I’m sure it upset some people because it ended with a huge question mark, but that was so refreshing for me! It was so intriguing, and I was thinking about it for days (weeks, months) until I found the second book. It didn’t ruin it for me to know how it ended (in canon), but having that time to ruminate on it was something I would never replace.

I wouldn’t have traded those months of pondering for the instant knowledge.

H.P. Lovecraft often writes in a similar way. In a way that leaves you with more questions than answers. I think it’s incredibly skillful how he does it, as it’s far more suspenseful and horror filled than if he simply told us in detail what was seen.

Knowing people’s reactions to the horrors of the world around them is more than enough to spark my creativity.

I think the thing is that H.P. Lovecraft isn’t writing a story, he’s writing in a universe of stories. That’s how Joshua and I tend to write as well. Many of our stories take place in the same universe (Brutal Passions and Torn and Seduced, for instance) but there’s no overlap of characters or plot. That’s by design, and allows us the freedom to expand.

So we like leaving things to a reader’s imagination, letting them ponder what happens next while we flesh out the universe a bit more. Some things are just better left unsaid, for the time being.

In the Mountains of Madness, for instance, we never do find out what it was that the man saw that rendered him almost catatonic. If Lovecraft had tried to describe it, it wouldn’t have had the same amount of impact as it had when he instead described how a healthy and hearty man reacted to it.

If it’s something that could affect someone so horrifically, after all, then it must be terrifying. Beyond our own ability to fathom.

But trying is half the fun. Imagining and letting yourself envision these things is exciting and rewarding, and I would never trade this sense of wonder and curiosity for knowledge.

Not when it comes to fiction.