Not a lot of forward progress on the latest novel in the last few weeks. I took some time off to work on a short story and to do some research reading because I'd started to get that Middle of the Novel and All Adrift feeling. I hoped the reading would help me focus. Some, not much. So I kicked the novel around a bit more, but my subconscious still resisted setting a course. It's a good thing I've been through this several times before because instead of feeling panicked, I just felt irritated. 

So today I started asking myself the hard questions, like:  

◆ How do you see the rest of this novel going?

◆ What kind of a lame-brained plot element is that?

◆ Have you considered switching genres?

◆ Hey wait a minute, are you really writing the middle book of a trilogy?

◆ What is that deep, dark character element you've been hinting at for 60k words but never quite made up your mind about?

◆ How can you possibly fit 1180k worth of novel into a 100k space?

◆ What about the tutu-wearing ponies? They've been waiting in the wings all this time...

◆ Who are you kidding?

◆ You must be kidding me. I don't see anyone else here. Are you kidding me?

◆ Have you considered a career in the Foreign Legion? 

While I was at it, I sat down and did a proto-outline of what's left to get through. It clarified things wonderfully. Maybe I can start rowing again. Chances are, I won't loyally follow the outline, but at least it got me headed towards the end once more. No doubt I'll have to plot the course again at some future point. 

I still don't know what to do with the ponies. Maybe next novel...