Another darling gone, the whole last chapter, and a query sent out on the basis of the new manuscript. We'll see if it fares any better than the old one (which is still sitting, whole and unmarred, on the hard drive and numerous external backups, so if I need it back I can get it).
Len's story now begins: The third morning after I left home, I woke up knowing what I should do.
It now ends:
Outside in the plaza we heard cheering, catcalling, the tramping of hooves, and Sheikh bellowing.
General Shelby had arrived. For the next few days, our private scandals could pass unnoticed amid the frenzy of dying patriotism, the looting of stores, and the final death throes of the Confederacy.
"All right," said Middleton. "All right."
I liked the old ending better.
But hey, maybe this version will get snapped up at auction by a big house, become The Next Big Thing, and demand multiple sequels, and I can use that ending in the 20th book, which wraps up Len's entire life and career; by which time, the words will be even more meaningful than they were the first time!
(Shut up. Authors have to feed themselves fantasies like that in order get up in the morning. And this kind of thing does happen, so why not to me as well as to anybody else?)
Time to research my LoneStar Con panels and get the pitch line back to the front of my brain.
Because you can finish projects, but you will never be done working.
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