I guess this is the jarring time you hear about when you have to toss out that first awful novel and start the next one. So, I'm going through all 19 chapters and slicing out the parts that belong to a literary novel, Amy's Mother for lack of a better title for now.
Then rewriting House of Cuts as a suspense thriller with edges of wacky humor.
A couple lines from a Mary Mackey poem pop into my mind, not sure of the punctuation, sorry:
Out of the one, two
Out of the still point, the multitude
Yikes and double yikes!!!!! Sigh, sit in the chair, and just keep going. Driven by some kind of mystery.