Camp NaNo update: I'm *this close* to finishing the third arc of the story and moving on to the final part. Over the past few months I've been gathering tons of notes devoted to the last quarter of the novel, so I have plenty to work with! Assuming Drake doesn't change everything up. Again. He's predictably unpredictable.

Here's a relevant conversation with my husband this week that made me giggle.
Me: "How has it been another month and I'm still not done the story yet? I need to finish this dang arc!"
Husband: "That's what Noah said."
*cue studio laughter at his bad pun*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Anyway, since it's been almost two weeks since the last post, I'm going to ramble at my characters again.

Dear Adair (the Forcepainter/illustrator),
Whoops, after six months of writing you without a problem, I just tried to spell your name "Adare". 'Air' because your head is usually in the clouds. Got it. I love this about you, though. You'll just be ambling along and suddenly something arbitrary will catch your attention and you'll become fixated on that. You've known Etri for months and just now his tattoos distract you? What's next, the color of Grandeau's hat? A pretty shell on the beach? Those seemingly random bits of color that you're seeing out of the corner of your eye? (Hint: those flashes of color are important, Addy. Learn to focus on them.)

Dear Blythe (the Bladeshielder/blade-dancer),
You probably hate me for the fact that Grandeau lassoed you with an invisible rope, but he was justifiably frightened. It wasn't my fault you didn't tell him it was you before you opened the door. Besides, I found it hilarious. Also please get some sleep before you make any rash decisions. You usually make rash decisions, but in this case your brother either went over to the other side or got captured, which you wouldn't react well to even on a good day, and you can't possibly think straight after being awake for two days. (Yet you seem to think it's the boys who do stupid things. I'm tempted to make Grandeau's mime action to represent you be a facepalm or throwing his arms up in the air because those are your constant reactions to dealing with the rest of this bunch.)

Dear Etri (the Shadowwalker/fire-eater),
Oh, stop glaring at me for deciding that Sol calls you "Mouse". You know how your brother is with nicknames and it's the perfect one for you. If you don't like it, prove us wrong. Do something outgoing and social without needing Blythe's magic to cancel your fears and inhibitions. Show us that this mouse has teeth, claws, courage- and a voice. My notes have shown me what happens later, so I know you have it in you.

Dear Grandeau (the Shadowshaper/mime),
Congratulations, you're a Shadowwalker! Sort of. Eventually Etri will sort this out and start training you, but in the meantime DO NOT cross over to the shadow plane! That's a plot point for later in the series and I don't need you accidentally getting stuck way earlier than I'm intending. Go distract yourself with cartwheels and pretending you're in an invisible box or something.
PS: Sol's been on a nicknaming kick again, but I think you'll like being called "Motley". I mean, you are the jester kid. I am kind of worried about the confusion if everyone starts using it because it sounds nothing like your real name and readers might not be able to remember that you're dressed in patchwork colors. But I just love the potential for calling you "Mot"! It fits you so much better than the lofty name that you're not going to grow into for several years.

Dear Chantrell (the Songshifter/melodist),
See, I told you they'd get you out of there. It's funny how you put all the thanks on Adair when he really didn't do anything but tag along. You really do look up to him, don't you? I suppose there are worse role models. But then you turn around and start talking like all the older characters are idiots for missing the obvious. Yup, you're definitely twelve! I think it's neat that you've been giving me ideas for a future book, by the way. I guess you're determined to have me keep you in the series.

Dear Sol (the Lightbringer/fire-breather),
You're feeling torn, aren't you? Part of you is fearing he did turn and he did leave you. The other part is saying that there was a mistake, that something went wrong, but that part is being drowned out by your uncharacteristically vocal twin. Remember how you feel about shadow elementals, how they make you angry and more than a little skeeved out? That's the bias he has about Drake. Not that he's far wrong in that assessment, but in this case you're the one who is right. For once Etri's intelligence compass is pointing due wrong.

Dear Drake (the Spellbinder/fire-dancer),
I am really tempted to make Grandeau's miming action to represent you be pointing at his butt. Maybe if you weren't such a ... you know... the others would have looked harder for you when you didn't report back. You'll be stuck with the antagonists on your own for a while and there you're going to have to make a choice. Are you going to continue the path you've been on forever: lying, cheating, seducing, stealing, and mind-controlling your way through life, always careful to keep your own skin safe? Or are you going to take some risks and reach for humanity before it's too late? The clock's ticking, Drae. Even if you aren't sure what you are yet, those shadow elementals that attacked you most certainly knew. The only reason they didn't kill you is because you have a little time left...

~Meri, the writer who gets a kick out of the fact that humor is equally balanced with drama. You guys need to give my cast of "In the Cards" comedy lessons so I can get a desire to ever go back to writing my far less funny novel.