I did it.
I started the new book.
7 pages, 1,900 words. And I like it already.
I guess what it comes down to is that I don't care what's gone down, who's walked out, what's been lost, or where the time's gone. Sooner or later when the past becomes a jumbled mess the best thing to do is toss a match on the fucker and watch the whole thing burn. Then you can stand back and observe what's birthed from the still-glowing embers, what stirs through smoking ashes to rise again.
By the way, the name of the novel?
Have a nice weekend.