I hurried home, grabbed a cigar, and went out to the deck, turning on the lights that rim the railing, which provides light to read and write by when night comes and gives me the added benefit of pissing off the neighbors (they're on the board of the Home Owners' Association, and they don't like my lights, but can't get an "official" order from the board to make me take them down). My ideas turned into four pages of notes, so now I'm going back to my original outline and fixing stuff there first. That way I have a working model of how the book plays out. Then I'll simply retype or cut and paste the existing material with the new stuff.
I'm much happier now.
There's probably only one or two of you who really care, but so what? This is one of the things I like about scribbling. When you want to throw the fracking book in the trash, your subconscious arrives like the calvary to save the day.