To say Robert was having a bad day was the misstatement of the century.

He sighed as he stared at the blank canvas on his computer screen. His web novel was popular and his brain was feverish with ideas, plot twists, secret reveals, easter eggs, genial relatable villains, and parallel plot lines to last him a couple of hundred chapters.

And yet, the canvas remained blank. All he had to do was to start typing and things would unravel by themselves, the story would practically write itself like the ghost of William Shakespeare himself was whispering in Robert's ear. All of this would happen regardless of either necromancy or the presence of the dead bard's ghost.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

If he only could do that first step and write the first sentence. No, the first word.

He didn't.

.....

Hey, this standalone chapter has moved into its own house! Read it here!

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/81932/1-lifes-real