Oh, in all my grouchiness, I forgot to tell you how it ended up. You know my prediction was it would come in at 15,000 words. Actual word count was just over 18,000, putting the whole thing at about 82,000 words, give or take.
Right now, it ends like this (note, it’s not all in second person, but, in keeping with the working title–Remind Me of the Dreaming Dead–I want to make reading the book feel kind of like having a strange dream, so I’ve been trying to move the reader around in dreamlike ways. This is the point where you move into Sue.) :
He finds you asleep in a cedar glade, purple flowers polkadotting the sunny spots around you. He sits next to you there, mirroring the arrangement in our world, and he begins to tell you a story.
What is the story that the living can tell the dead to bring them back?
I don’t know. He leans in close to you and tells it so softly I cannot make it out. But it must be something different than the stories we tell now aimed to resurrect lost times, lost people, lost causes.
And whatever it is, I note that you don’t tell it to him in 1910.
Perhaps it’s because the ending is sadder than you expect.
It’s hard to tell you how writing something like that feels. It might not end up being the right thing for the book. There are a lot of revisions ahead. And I might change my mind about how well it works. But right now, it feels really good. Like I wrote something better than I thought I could.