On works in progress

Returning to a book too long in progress (after letting it sit, after repeatedly letting it sit) is like walking into a stranger's parlor.  The words don't feel like yours, the pacing surprises, you agree to agree with the flow (you're being polite).  Then, of a sudden, you've slammed into a wall.  The wrong thing is happening, wrongly.

You take your pen.  You strike through pages.  You take lemon with your tea, and intervene.