Of course, the structure is still broken, and the mystery plot is flopping on the floor like a dying and unhappy fish, and then there are those scenes that are currently indicated by something more or less reminiscent of this: [Put a scene in which Abby Irene figures out that Sebastien is withholding information here].
It's funny. The more I learn about writing--the better I get at it--the worse my first drafts get. They're all big loops and lines now, incomplete arches and spans. Sweep and movement, and the structures don't hold.
But I enjoy the process of taking those pieces and building a narrative out of them, and the narratives themselves are growing more complex and self-supporting. I've been saying for years that writng is too complicated to do well consciously--that for me it takes iterative passes and a lot of it needs to take place down in the subconscious. And this... more relaxed startegy seems to be helping with that, now that I've successfully internalized my tools.
It took a lot of conscious application to develop those tools, mind you--study and intellectualization. But now I think I might be learning to jam.
Which is what we play all those fucking scales for, after all.