Somewhere in my itty bitty brain, an idea is developing.

Drank a little red wine last night, and wrote some sparkling paragraphs.

But it's a little like pooping diamonds.  It hurts the next day.

I probably needed a little inspiration.  I was doing a workmanlike job on the last three chapters.  But I wasn't really 'feeling' it.  So this was nice.

I'm not saying my sparkling paragraphs are actually better than my workmanlike paragraphs.  More in the way of a change-up, a little tonal texture.  Plus, I love it when I can riff like that.  But riffing too much, I'm not sure that's such a good thing either.

During the morning, I wrote a chapter that I wasn't sure going into it that I needed; that is, I saw a way around it.  I'm trying to drive straight to the ending, so I contemplating skipping the chapter.  But I'm also trying not to stray too far from the original blueprint  -- at least in the first draft.  (That's a bit of a change, by the way -- that I would rewrite it, but it's gotten complex enough that that's going to be necessary.  Not a quick throw it up on my blog, like FREEDY FILKINS.)

Anyway, it turned out that an important plot development popped up, so my instincts were right.

I think the biggest thing that has happened over the last two  years is that I'm just trusting my subconscious more and more.  When the time comes, the idea is there.