Oh, my god, what have I done?

I had a perfectly good book and I've decided to rewrite it.  Faerylander.

I feel like I've piled a ten foot pile of shit on my front porch, for no good reason.

Nothing to do but pinch my nose and dig in.

I told Linda the new plot and she started nodding halfway through and said, "Much better."

I know it is, but damn.

Anyway,  I don't really know how easy or hard this is going to be.  It's a bit like writing from an outline, which I've rarely done but when it happens, I do find it easier to power through.

(I don't outline because that isn't how I discover the story.)

I think I'm just going to write fresh chapters whenever possible.  I'm a better writer now than I was 4 years ago.  Some of the early stuff seems clunky to me now.

I know this is the right decision, but I can't help but wonder if the pile of shit is going to topple over on me and bury me.