That One Time I Sat Down to Write a Novel and Accidentally Became a Layperson Expert in Humoralism Instead

I didn’t meet my goal for NaNoWriMo. Not even close. I’m currently buried under a mountain of upheaved life shit, anyway, and still managing to periodically crank words out… so that’s something.

“Brother’s Keeper” is up on Write-On (, so you can search for it and, y’know, follow it/comment on it/point and laugh (to yourself, please). It’s currently at 33,400 words, and I’m struggling to remember the initial outline. Now I have to sit down and try again.  **Sigh**

I went to the library for some books on Scotland. They had no books on Scotland. (It’s a tiny branch.) I got books on daily life in the middle ages and Arthurian Britain instead. As y’do.

I also now believe that all of my current woes can be traced back to an imbalance of black bile, but that leeches were purely to punk somebody you hated.


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