And then I realized that, wait–unlike in the first book, that deleted scene actually does belong in this one–or rather, a climactic scene from the end of this book needs to move to the setting of that deleted scene and take on elements of it–and that if I do that, all those unruly story-ending threads will suddenly start clicking together rather than splaying apart.
And then I thought: but I liked the last 13,000 words I wrote. And: but I was so close to the end.
No matter. If this new thing is the thing the story wants, then those 13,000 words were part of the path to get there, rather than a thing in themselves.
Of course I have to try the new ending, and see if it really does bring things together the way I right-this-moment feel so certain it will. Whatever I find, following that new path is part of the process, too. And I’ve learned that when that sudden realization makes pieces begin to go click, click, clickety click, I ignore it at my peril.