To everyone

First, thank you for the wild ride. It was magical.

Also, thank you all for your little (and not so little) contributions to the plot, even if it did make mincemeat of the original outline.

Yours ever,
--Writer Lady

Emrys,
I can’t believe I wrote damn near 66,000 words about you and still have no idea what color your eyes are. Not that it matters, but good grief.
--WL

Leo,
Don’t tell the others, but you are, by far, my favorite character – in spite of your many hijackings (or perhaps, because of them). And while I do know that your eyes are brown, it’d also be kinda nifty to know what color your skin is. At least, come rewrite time, yeah?
--WL

Callista,
Your personality is still a mystery to me. I think I’m seeing bits of feistiness here and there, but I’m still not sure where it’s coming from. Probably that’s because we never had time to develop your back story. Sorry ‘bout that – we’ll get there.
--WL

Maribel,
You are SUCH a bitch. What do you think you’re doing in Miami and how did you manage to get away in the first place? You are SO dead next time. (And I am so not helping you pick out a name for her. Yeesh!)
--WL

Al,
It’s been real. Real weird. You were Maribel’s idea, so I’m glad that at least YOU got killed like you were supposed to. And I’m not the least bit sorry about the pink, fuzzy slippers. You deserved them for butting into this story in the first place.
--WL

Donovan & Lindsay,
You were fun. Sorry you got killed. Sorry it was Leo and Callista who off-ed you (I would have warned you, but I didn’t see that one coming at all).
--WL

Jack,
Welcome to the neighborhood! I hope you enjoy being Emrys’ new General Manager – comes with a bunch of perks, you’ll like it – though I’m not quite sure how we’re going to work out those logistical problems with you surviving the night in Boston. You’ll go POOF! if the sun hits you and I don’t care who you think you know, you’re not going to be buying a car anywhere at 6 o’clock in the morning. Don’t worry, we’ll work it out.
--WL

Josée,
You were just all-around great. Sorry Maribel had to happen to you. Perhaps you shall rise.... We’ll see.
--WL

Dear Cast, Crew, Groupies and Assorted Hangers-On (Al, that would be you)

As most of you are aware, we are coming to the End of the Story.

That means it’s time to be wrapping things up.

That means no one – and I mean no one (Leo, listen up, I’m talking to you) – comes up with anything new. That means: No new plot twists. No sudden and inexplicable appearances of long lost lovers, cousins, uncles, siblings and/or other relatives. No miraculous escapes, if you are scheduled to die. No tragic and unexpected deaths, if you are scheduled to live. And most definitely, no sudden revelations that change everything already written.

Basically, anything that would make the story go on and on ad infinitum is OFF LIMITS.

Everybody gat that? Good.

No, there will not be a sequel. Please stop asking. Maribel, especially (and you can stop dropping hints about surviving, honey, you don’t).

Incredibly bloody sick of every last one of you,
-Writer Lady

Callista

Well. You’re awfully resourceful all of a sudden. Who knew you had the balls to lie to a cop? Shit - who knew you had balls?

Wait, wait. Is that your personality finally shining through?!

Huh.

Fine time to let me in on that.

Better late than never, I guess,
-Writer Lady

Leo

Dude. Are you black or white or both? I don’t care. I just want to know.

As confused with you as usual,
-Writer Lady

Writer Lady

Please – take off the frikkin’ apron, get back in here on your butt and FINISH THE DAMN STORY. You’re not the only one who’s impatient, you know.

Mucho smoochos,
-The Cast

Donovan

Jack is going to call you ‘Donny’ behind your back whether you like it or not. Get over it.
Very little sympathy,
-Writer Lady

ps – Could you possibly do something other than ‘crow’ every time you open your damn mouth? It was cute at first. It’s getting old.

Lindsay

Get your scaly mitts off Leo. He’s not for you.
Slut,
-Writer Lady

Leo

You’re already on my shit list, why are you letting Lindsay hit on you? You don’t even like her and it’s upsetting your assigned love interest.
Pay attention already,
-Writer Lady

Leo

I make Emrys let you drive the TT and THIS is how you repay me??

Leaving aside the fact that nobody told you to get pulled over in the first place, you don’t have a driver’s license. Great. Thanks. How am I supposed to get you out of this mess??

Running out of chocolate and patience with you,
-Writer Lady

Dear old-homeless-lady-sitting-on-the-park-bench-next-to-Maribel

I'm sorry. You’re about to get it. Really, I am sorry, because you’ve been quite entertaining.

I’m also sorry Maribel can’t understand you better, but you know, she’s pretty stubborn when it comes to claiming she can’t speak a word of French and it’s been fun irritating the piss out of her with your ‘franglais’.

Oh, sorry about the BO, but it was all part of that ‘show don’t tell’ crapola us aspiring author-types feel compelled to practice.

Better luck in your next incarnation,
-Writer Lady

ps – I’m sorry, but I couldn’t care less if you ever come up with a name. See, ‘the old homeless lady’ has way more words than any name you could come up with, so don’t bother. At least not until editing time.

pps - Oh, yes, and many thanks for imparting your wisdom to our girl. That moved the story along nicely.

Leo

*Writer Lady consults outline, purses lips and glares over spectacles at character currently on screen*

What - the fuck - do you think you’re doing? I just checked the outline to see where the hell this chapter is supposed to be going and guess what: You do not HAVE a chapter right here. I am not supposed to be writing about you AT ALL right now.

Yeah, OK – the sentimental memories about Tameka and your little boy are good backstory (not to mention good word count) and the whole waking up thing was really sweet. BUT. We were supposed to fast forward six weeks at this point to Maribel’s little urine test.

In other words, I’m supposed to be bitching about Maribel. Not you.

Still trying to figure out how this happened you sneaky bastard,
-Writer Lady

Callista

Would you PLEASE stop following Leo around Emrys’ house?!? Good grief, girl, get yourself some initiative and GO EXPLORING. Emrys is not home and you’re not going to run into him, I promise.

The library would be a really good place to start (hint, hint).

Getting mighty impatient,
-Writer Lady

Leo

You're stalling.

I know you're just trying to protect her, and make her feel better and all that. It's sweet and everything, it is - but it ain't gonna do any good.

So quit getting all poetic and Pollyanna on me and get that girl's ass into Emrys' house so she can steal the blasted book already! 'Cuz if you don't, guess what. It's still going to be there when Maribel comes for it and We. Don't. Want. That. That would definitely make things go badly for you. Well, worsely for you.

Get going already,
-Writer Lady

Maribel

You're serious. A muskrat? An actual fucking muskrat. The fuck does a muskrat look like?

Y'see? There you go again. Now I'm going to have to do research. Brilliant. Thanks.

You are so dead at the end of this,
-Writer Lady

Callista

Are you serious, girl? Leo reminds you of your father?

Yuck.

Not happy with that,
-Writer Lady

McKendrick

You are walking a thin line, buddy. Make sure you stay on the right side of it. Comical is one thing, upstaging Emrys is another, entirely.

Still watching you,
-Writer Lady

Emrys and McKendrick

Enough with the frikkin’ hedgehogs already.

Gritting my teeth to finish this frikkin’ chapter,
-Writer Lady

Officer McKendrick

STAY IN YOUR OWN JURISDICTION, ASSHOLE.

You're a walk on. Enough with the delusions of grandeur.

However, if you entertain me enough this time, I might bring you back as a semi-sane vampire hunter next year. Might. Suppose it's the least I can do, since Emrys is about to seriously fuck with your head.

Watching you, so watch yourself,
-Writer Lady

Emrys

You’re a dumbass for getting pulled over, but it’s great for the word count. (So great, I may let you sleep with Maribel again. Just be careful, she may have ulterior motives.)

Oh, and sorry about the FJ, baby, but you had no choice. They had you at the scene. Don’t worry, you can always buy another one.

Grateful darling,
-Writer Lady

Dear ‘tall, portly officer’

Name. Now. (No, it cannot be ‘MacDonald’. That’s giving me visions of french fries that don’t belong in my novel.)

Waiting,
-Writer Lady