You may recall that last week, I struggled with a snooze-worthy scene and how to make it less snooze-worthy. I wrapped up the week having written four scenes for that particular sequence of events. Over the weekend, I concluded that all four of those scenes would put me to sleep, particularly if I encountered them that early on in a novel. Furthermore, I don't think I really need them. I have scooted the entire sequence into my scratchpad at the end of the ms and spent most of this week regrouping and finding my new direction. All right, yes. There was also a minor bout of the familiar "you suck, just give it up now" game. Game over, I win. There will be no quitting just yet. (Confidence, or sheer stupid stubbornness? I have no idea.)
Over the weekend (once I came down from my euphoric mother moment), I also reached the conclusion that I should really not be having so much difficulty breathing, no matter how out of shape I may be. A trip to the doctor yesterday netted me a diagnosis of asthmatic bronchitis and prescriptions for an antibiotic, a steroid, and an inhaler. I'm not sure I feel terribly better overall just yet, but there have been patches of betterness. I think. I'll keep you posted.