Yesterday, instead of trying to find a new head and shoulders of "The Maltese Unicorn," I attempted to move forward. This is an inherently unnatural way for me to work. I cannot work in bits and pieces. I must start at the beginning and proceed to the conclusion. But I tried, anyway. I wrote 1,049 words that might be of some value. Today I'm taking the day off, to try to figure out how to salvage the mess, and to put some distance between myself and the story. Maybe things will look less bleak tomorrow.
Today, we're going to a matinée of Splice, which I have been eager to see since first hearing about it. I only wish my mood were better.
After all the writing yesterday, I took a cool bath, trying to avoid a nap. But I ended up dozing anyway, while Spooky was getting dinner ready. Later, we watched two of my favorite films, Bryan Singer's The Usual Suspects (1995) and Billy Wilder's Sunset Blvd. (1950).