One of the guilty pleasures that I find myself indulging is watching Marina Orlova, the popular Russian-American etymologist and HotForWords YouTube sensation, as she explains the origin of words and phrases. Check out the Google for an introduction to my favorite language teacher: “Not your typical philologist. Etymology, philology, word origins, origin of, hot teacher.”

Marina, who was once told that she could not be a model because at 5-5 she was too short, is now raising the language IQ of thousands of devoted students. A year ago she had 200,000 YouTube subscribers (as a blonde). This year, even as a brunette, Marina continues to shine and win more fans.

Writers spend a lot of time on their opening paragraphs, and rightly so. Then we stand on the corner, displaying our wares under a streetlamp, waiting for a reader (or agent, or editor) to drive by. When they slow down, or stop at a red light, we boldly slink out to the curb, holding the first manuscript page of our novel up to the car window, pointing to that first seductive sentence, the alluring opening paragraph, the irresistible hook that will charm them into opening the passenger door and inviting us in. Hooker and hookee, together at last in a kind of erotic literary eHarmony dream.

But—and I apologize if you wanted me to pursue this dream further—what about the final paragraph of the novel?