I’ve been thinking lately about why we love stories—even when we think we already know how they’re going to end.

Romance is probably the most obvious example. When we pick up a romance, we already know quite a bit about the ending. Somehow, despite everything standing in their way, these two people are going to find their way to each other.

In a fated-mates story, we know even more. They are quite literally meant to be together.

So does knowing that spoil the story? I don’t think it does.

If a fated-mates romance surprised us at the end by having the couple look at each other and say, “Well, this isn't going to work,” and walk away forever, it would certainly be unexpected. But would we be happy about it? Probably not.

We didn't pick up the book because we wanted to discover whether they would end up together. We wanted to discover how they would get there. Stories are about the Journey. What would stand in their way? What would they have to overcome? What would they learn about each other—and themselves? What would it cost them to reach the ending?

The more I thought about this, the more I realized something else.

If knowing the ending spoiled a story, none of us would ever read a favorite book twice. Or watch a favorite movie again.

I've watched movies many times when I could probably tell you what is about to happen before it happens. I even of a small cache of movies which I call my go-to movies when I feel sad or want to believe there is integrity in the world.

I've reread books for the same reason, knowing perfectly well how they end.

I return because I want to spend time with those characters again. I want to experience certain moments again. Sometimes I even notice things the second or third time that I missed the first time. I want to experience that journey again.

And yet, there's another side to this. I've put books aside after only a few chapters because I thought I knew where they were going. But I kept the book because something in me still wanted to know.

I've also stopped reading very good books because one character made me so angry that I couldn't continue. I had already created all sorts of possibilities in my head about what was going to happen. More importantly, I knew what I wanted to happen—and I was afraid the author wasn't going to give it to me.

That's rather interesting when you think about it.

Sometimes when we say, I know how this is going to end, perhaps what we really mean is, I'm afraid I know how this is going to end.

And if a story can make us worry about its characters, become angry with them, hope for them, or even put the book down because we're afraid of what they're going to do next, then perhaps the ending isn't the most important part after all. There is that journey again.

Maybe that's why we keep telling stories that have been told in one form or another for thousands of years.

We know the hero will probably triumph. We know the mystery will probably be solved. We know the lovers will probably find their way to each other. But we've never met these people before. We haven't taken this journey. And sometimes knowing there is a happy ending waiting for us makes the journey more enjoyable, not less.

So here's my question for you:

Have you ever loved a book or movie even though you knew exactly how it would end? And is there one you return to again and again simply because you love the journey?

Until next time,

Helen