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As my characters approach their black moment, I have been negotiating one of my own. The end of this book has been crystal clear to me since the very earliest days of working on this book. Except that now… it isn’t. What I had thought would happen doesn’t feel right anymore.

What does a writer do in such a situation?

Why, lose herself in the slough of despond, of course.

But while I was wandering there, weeping and wailing, a new idea took hold of me. It feels right, but it’s so unexpected that it’s like quicksilver in my hands. A gift, absolutely, but I’m in for a wild ride as I write myself to the end.

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