Uncle.

Sometimes there comes a point when a book is driving me absolutely batty and no work is getting done. When it takes hours to produce a thousand words, when the characters aren't speaking to me, and when I'd rather clean the litter box than write it.

When that point comes, it doesn't necessarily mean the book is doomed to the Wangstbasket. Sometimes it just means I need to focus on something else for a little while, then come back to it. Not just "not write" like I did on my week off, but shift gears entirely and work on another (not necessarily new) project. Then come back.

That time has come, my loyal blog minions.

Under My Skin, you win. This is me crying "uncle".

I know I said yesterday that this book is not destined for the Wangstbasket, and I stand by that statement, but I need to shift gears for a little while. It's not the book that's the problem, I've realized, it's burnout. It's not you, it's me. Something like that. After writing two books, start to finish, back to back, over the course of about 30 days, I need to do something else. I thought a week off would be enough, but evidently it wasn't.

So, to the back burner you go, Under My Skin, but you are still safe from the Wangstbasket.

That said...here's the good news:

I have something else to work on that will likely keep me busy for the next two or three weeks. It's an existing book, one that was previously deemed finished, but will now be ripped to shreds and revised - almost rewritten - with more chapters, more conflict, a few more characters, and yes...yes, my loyal blog minions...more of those scenes(tm).

And all I have to say is:

Fans of Ian Black, rejoice.

The overhaul of Playing With Fire has commenced.