The work is flawed
That's all I have to say. The work is flawed. By 'work', I mean my current novel, which is Book 3 of the Daemonva trilogy. By 'flawed', I mean that it has issues; deep, glaring issues that make me want to take it outside and burn it. It is flawed, and I can't see a way out of that right now.
I can handle continuity errors. Years of running table-top roleplaying games has long since taught me to logic my way around whatever knots a group of players got themselves into. You learn how to roll with it and how to make the pieces fit, after the fact. This isn't about continuity, though there is a part of that there.
The problem, if I can lay a finger on it, is that it doesn't... flow. It doesn't line up in my head and execute like a computer program, one scene after the other. What I'm trying to achieve doesn't work, the way a program doesn't work once you've set it in motion because something, somewhere, is broken.
I'm aware that reducing my writing to computer code is bizarre, and frankly I don't care. My brain works in mysterious ways.
So I need to puzzle my way through it, or it'll never be fixed. I can't publish it as is. I have to honor the story, as it was told, as it needs to be finished. I'm going radio-silent until The Call of Aven-Ra is complete.