This morning I took my dad in for some medical tests, but we got back early enough so that I was able to work this afternoon and did 9 pages in the next Western. I love starting a new book. The first day, even the first few days, with most of the book stretching out in front of me waiting to be written, is almost intoxicating, rather than daunting like you might think. It's after those first few days that the job gets daunting for me, as the realization soaks in that there's still a lot of work to do. And then it gets exciting again the last few days, when I can see the rest of the book in my head and just have to get it down on paper. But for now I'm glad to be working again.
I finished THE BLACK ICE. I don't think it was as good as Connelly's first Harry Bosch book, but it's still pretty good. As convoluted as the plot is, I'm not sure there was enough of it to justify the length of the book. I like short books. I know that's not the fashion these days. But I'll read long books if they're well-written and hold my interest, which this one did. I just think it could have been pared down a little.