Eleven of Thirty

16,924 of 18,334 is slightly less than the 2k I’d been hoping for, and it’s also nearly a full day behind. The problem is, my hasty outline has more gaps than I’d anticipated and my growing fatigue is affecting my ability to write words that I don’t absolutely hate. Almost the entirety of what I wrote today involved the consecration of a ritual dagger without letting on to a bunch of anti-witchcraft monks in an abbey that there’s any consecration going on. Sounds interesting, but in practice I think the whole thousand and a half-ish words of it would’ve been better off with the characters just handing the dagger off to their hobgoblin ally and asking him to make it happen. He can turn invisible, so “do [thing] without letting the monks know” isn’t really a problem for him, and he’s been weirdly absent for much of the story while my focus is probably too relentlessly on the only two characters who were fully formed when I started writing. Everyone surrounding them is only slowly growing into real, actual people.

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