I don't know what comes next.

This is a terrifying thing to admit, thirty thousand words into a story.

I had started with a couple of rough character sketches and some tentative worldbuilding, and decided I would figure out the plot as I went along. Meanwhile I was nurturing the secondary protagonist's identity crisis, which was supposed to be the secondary, supporting, plot thread. Guess what happened next.

Now I am more than halfway through a story that is not adventure, not intrigue, not mystery, and not even a proper romance. The closest thing to redeeming value in the plot as it stands, is that it could possibly be literary fiction -- if the characters weren't anthro bats.

Like, I'm not even talking "how do I market this". More like, "what the fuck did I just write".

So I stick to the short term, and realize that the next thing that needs to happen is a character mailing a letter to their mother.