Do you like books with ambiguous endings?

    My response: It depends.

    For thrillers, I want an experience—akin to a fast ride on a rollercoaster where I hold on tight for every twisty turn. My heart races and my mind tries to calm me down. Yep, I ask for a scary ride but then want it to end. Let my breathing return to normal. Close the book, pick up another one.

    In a traditional mystery, I expect justice, resolution, and a clear ending. Oh, and I want real clues along the way. Dear Author: Play fair and give me clues and pieces of your well-crafted puzzle. Whatever mystery sub-genre (cozy, procedural) dangle the red herrings and let me decipher and deduce. Even when I’m wrong, I am having fun leaning into the intrigue.

    My guess is I consume 75 percent novels to 25 percent nonfiction each year. For nonfiction, my shelves are mainly memoirs with an element of outdoor adventure. I’ll follow any author scaling up Mt. Everest, camping in the Antarctic waiting for penguins to hatch, or mapping the plants along the Grand Canyon. Put me on the tennis courts with Agassi, or backstage, looking at BillyJoel’s life.  

     My favorite books don’t always have a tidy, neat conclusion. Julian Barnes’ “Sense of an Ending,” and Ian McEwan’s “Atonement” are those kinds of reads, among others. 

    But I’m fine with ambiguity in my reading life.  

    The best endings invite me to imagine what I’d do as the character, or as the writer. Mystery writers are keen on conducting book autopsies. It’s too easy to invent the happily ever-after ending. Yet, I struggle to suggest alternative endings that send characters to an awful place, albeit it prison, space, or back home. 

    I prefer hard realistic reads (fiction) that let me prove I’m tough enough to reach my conclusion. But when drafting a short story, my characters are rewarded with a happy ending. These characters deserve it after a rugged character arc where they fall down, get up, and go on. New mindset. Shifted motivations. But they continue their journey.  

    Every day, we make decisions without all the information. Anywhere we go we face choices, much like a stoplight at the intersection. The stoplight warns us to stop, slow down, go. The ambiguity lies in the middle with a flashing yellow light signal. Some of us speed up and others slow down and stop.

    Usually, I drive slower when the caution light flashes.  

    During the first week of my last dream job, I return to the role’s description, which reads: “Must have the ability to deal with ambiguity.”

    Doubts crowd out self-confidence, who was my best friend the week before.

    Certainly, being adept at ambiguity is a useful skill, and that’s why this organization lists it as a requirement for every employee’s job, not just mine. Navigating murky, vague, and changing conditions is always part of the job. My title, role, or department isn’t relevant. I rely on experience. 

    Each new career chapter will have conflict, tension, and unforgettable characters. That’s work. But it’s also life. And I’m willing to work hard to earn an ending I can be proud of.