As expected, yesterday stank: 162 words in the draft proper, and 99% of those a lengthy quote. However, I did write a bunch of notes and plans for how to proceed through the next, well, however many pages. And today I got grimly back up on the mule and wrote 415 words. It's moving, it's coming. Another day or so and my joy in my project will come back, too, but for now I am still suffering a sense of defeat over my lost pages. Really, I'm going to feel much better once I let the old draft just go and stop searching through the wreck for salvage. When I reread those pages, I am infected with something of the miserable, airless coasting of the original, and the fear seizes me that I will not be able to do any better my later drafts. I've got to stop rereading--heck, if for no other reason than because crap like that doesn't deserve a long mourning! Onward.