Almost too much great advice here. There is such a thing as too much.
When I had this problem, i had all I could do to work with patience, slowly, on one thing at a time.
I checked the end of the sear against the wood first, because that required the least amount of change if it was the culprit. Some black on the end proved this not to be the problem and I decided NOT to cut the stock in half. I checked the edge of the sear spring against the wood next. There was no tell tale black. I decided NOT to put the rifle through the windshield of my car.
The Happy Hammer was still on the table, tho... I cocked it one more time and became aware that the trigger position was changing, and there was no give in trigger movement when I absent mindedly cocked it.
So I complained to Anne...my wife...who has never fired a flintlock...
I dunno how she figured out that the trigger bar was too high. I went to Dixons and bought two triggers, because, at that time, I was more incompetent than I am now.
When I came back, and heard my Father laughing behind me, I knew I had to slow down and back off. As far as I know, dad remains deceased, but he shows up in my mind's eye every time I screw up with that @#$%& snicker.
He'd probably also there when I do something right, but it doesn't irritate me the way his snicker does.
The third trigger got the gun working well. I dunno how, but it did. My guess is that I found patience somewhere and only filed one or two strokes the three or four times I took it out. So I packed up the other two triggers with a side plate, some bolts and a patchbox spring and brought them as blanket prizes to one of my trail walks. Somebody took it in the second or third pick.
So, now, every time I work on a rifle, I check the trail walk and match schedule...
Moral of the story? If you hear some guy snickering behind you whilst you are having a problerm, send him to Newmanstown where he belongs, keep a good supply of blanket prizes because one man's discard is another man's treasure and listen to you wife when she talks.
Don't shoot yore eye out, kid
The Capgun Kid