Blew up the book this morning. This sounds terrible, I know, but what it really means is: I sat down to work, looked at the chapter I was writing, realized I had made a mistake, early on. That I wasn't happy with the flow, the pace, or the plot, so I decided to shake things up a bit. I moved two chapters up so they're near the beginning, combined two action scenes into one, and tomorrow, I'll go through from the beginning and start revising to make it all make sense. THEN I'll be able to start moving forward again.
I hate having to do this. It seems to happen more often with my really intense action thrillers than it does with the slow burn suspense, but this isn't the first time I've been forced to throw a bomb in. The story demands what it demands. I am simply its caretaker. I do what it requires so it can sustain and grow.
Also had a meeting downtown with some fellow writers about a project we're thinking about. We went to lunch after - and lo and behold - SNOW! We joked that God was throwing confetti on our idea. But watching the fat flakes parade down from the sky, I was in heaven, and still am. You can take the girl out of Colorado, but you can't take the Colorado out of the girl.
Wish me luck for better words and flow tomorrow. And more snow!