Boy, are we close. This is Mare's weekend; it's all Mare all the time here in Ohio. The outline is in place--yes, Eileen, I sent it to you days ago--most of Mare's scenes are roughed in, and I'm writing the final drafts now. I LOVE MARE. Okay, she's deeply flawed, but I love her anyway. And Crash, well, he's not deeply flawed, he's not deeply anything, he's the simplest hero I've ever written, and that's his strength and I love him. Because as he points out, when you've got a woman as complex and talented and insane as Mare, the last thing she needs is a complex, talented, insane man. You need a Crash, solid as a rock, no magic whatsoever, a guy who can fix a motorcycle or your plumbing or your broken heart, and who can tell your vicious bitch of a shape-shifting evil aunt from a diner waitress when the chips are down. Loving this book. Must go finish my part of it now.
Eileen is on vacation without e-mail. Krissie is finishing up a copy edit. Both will be back on Monday when, fingers crossed, Mare will finished and victorious and in the solid, sure, sane arms of her motorcycle mechanic. Whose real name is Christopher, by the way.