So I went back on my original declaration that I wasn't going to start editing until I had finished the first draft. As I was driving down the highway for many long hours, as is often the case, I found myself imagining two children running through a field, spurred on by the sounds of war, and disappearing into the trees, taking flight as far as their feet could carry, and it occurred to me that my dissatisfaction with the beginning of my novel was easily remedied by this situation, but not easily integrated. As such, I am in the process of reorganizing the sequence of events and altering it to accept this beginning.

Funny, that such a restart coincides with the new year.