Which in this case, means adding a subplot. But that's okay, because the first 39 pages of this story currently have a surfeit of interesting character dynamics and angst, and not a lot of actual, you know, stuff that happens. And I've got plenty of room to do it in, as this thing *is* supposed to be a novelette or a long novella, and I only just cracked 9000 words. And the structure is open enough that there are plenty of places to put the subplot.
Still, it takes some thinking about. And scribbling of notes. And revising of existing text. And adding of scenes. So I think I will go make coffee and something for breakfast, and then I will sit on the sofa and noodle with the guitar and stare at the ceiling and then later I may juggle for a while and then go for a walk. Because there's a story in my head--I can feel it in there (which is a much better sensation than the horrible feeling that there's nothing down there and that one is just making it up without rhyme or reason to get some words on the page)--and if I can just get my fingers under an edge I can haul the thing up and have a look at it.
If I was a smoking woman, it would be time, in other words, for sitting and smoking. Since I don't smoke, it's time to fidget and sulk.
And figure out what eats rentboys.
Actually, I have a pretty good idea what eats the rentboys. What's puzzling me now is why.
...you know, the more I learn about writing, the less linear my craft becomes?