I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship. - Louisa May Alcott

I've written over 2200 words today. I mean, for the Irish/Norwegian historical. This was supposed to be the wedding chapter. It was supposed to be fairly easy. I have accounts of 9th Century weddings in this region. All I was going to have to do was adapt it to winter, for one, and to my characters, for another.

However, I am sitting here with my Diet Rite in front of me, having written over 2000 words today...and my Viking still isn't married!

It's making me nuts.

I am giving quasi-serious thought to chucking a detailed description of the wedding and ending the chapter in the next 100 words. "And so, Mr. Viking's brother and friends picked him up at the door of his house. They made more tracks in the muddy snow on their way to the village square, where The Bride waited, with apparent patience. They exchanged rings, said their vows while gripping the Ancestral Sword, and shared the Bridal Cup. And lo, Mr. Viking was married. 'Let's get to the feast!' young Hardheaded Kid declared with gusto. So they did. And they ate until drowsiness combined with mead to make everyone pass out. So much for the wedding night."

That's probably longer than 100 words, but who cares?

Sigh.

No, I won't do that. I assure you my literary style is rather more descriptive. But The Hardheaded Kid will definitely make an appearance...