Somewhere above Montana and surrounded by the snow.
Somewhere above Montana there's places you oughta go.
Somewhere above Montana the snow mutes all the sound.
Somewhere above Montana with only memories around.
I'm back in a mountain fortress, the place in my manuscript where Raven came to a turning point in the early drafts. The weakness in your plot, said a trusted friend, is that Raven never decides. True. She was weak. No more. I'm at this fortress strong and Raven is going to emerge, like the knight down the hall, with armor, ready to fight for her honor.
The stark terrain of the Rockies is the truth, as it was established over a hundred million years ago. The truth, like the mountains, is all that can emerge with time.
In the mountains, by herself, Raven looks inward and knows her truth. Then, fearlessly, she acts. The other ending was too cliche. This one is going to be true.
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