I should quit more often...

Home Not Home is coming together, despite my best efforts. I've done a blunt but quiet conversation between Brendan and Father Jack as they drive to visit with Eamonn. I already have part of that meeting written; just none of the details filled in, yet. But it will also be quiet.

It's funny...but the story is aiming to have a quiet ending. I have one written that is shocking...and dramatic...and bloody. One with a horrible catharsis. Very meaningful and painful and all that gloriously melodramatic nonsense...and it's dissolving before my very eyes. Brendan doesn't like it, saying, That would not be me. Never me.

I'm still in the early understanding of this new direction. No symbolism acceptable. At least, nothing overt and obvious. Just...something simple and human.

My giving up on finishing the story within my timeframe must have jolted some aspect of my connection to it, so that I could finally see how artificial my initial ending was. I don't want to discuss what it was, just now. not until I know this is the correct way to go.

But it...it really fucking jolted me. I went quiet, myself, at the first thought of it. Soft and silent and afraid of it. And that is what gives it some legitimacy with me. The fear of it. No death and destruction at the end. Just...silence.

Just as the world is always, truly, silent in the face of man's horrors.