The few, the proud:  The guilty collaborators

Thanks and credits on Sirocco should probably run almost as long as the story itself, in all honesty.  I've been working on this thing for more than a year, after all.

The primary band of editors, betas, whatever you want to call them, kept this thing running, kept me from scrapping it, and kicked me in the ass anytime I started to wander off-topic.  That was, I regret to say, more often than I like to admit.  (If you don't believe that, please note the snippet files of things that didn't work, available here.)

Included in that intrepid band and listed in alphabetical order from sheer desperation:

Devo:  who can always be relied on to ask, 'Yes, but what are they feeling?' and for all the helpful information on Manhattan;

Dragon:  who choreographs fights, makes my villains even more villainous, and brings me more coffee when I'm on a roll;

Gyrfalcon:  for the research on short notice and the extensive lectures in applied angst.  Connor would like to have a long talk with you, by the way;

Merewyn:  who insists that there's always room for another sex scene... when she isn't looking over my shoulder and saying, 'Which word did you mean there?';

Merrie Gail:  who chats with me far too late at night and came in at the last minute when I desperately needed a fresh eye on all of it;

Raine:  for the giggles, the comments, and cleaning up my verbs;

Shrew:  who keeps an eye on continuity, time shifts, and punctuation, because someone has to!;

&

Tarsh:  who wandered through at the end and gave comments on fights & aftermaths, as well as the care and handling of New Zealanders.  Although we're still arguing over whether or not I write angst. (g)

Special thanks are due to Don, who listened to what I needed in a fight location, and then told me exactly where to hold it, what the climate was like, and then loaned me maps and more maps.  Topological, geological, and city/road maps, to name just a few.  Then he casually mentioned, "Oh, and about disposing of the bodies?"  Any mistakes are of course mine and might just be deliberate for plot purposes.  (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)  He also helped with left-handed fight choreography in the living room.

Then there's Krista, who sent me information on Franciscans in New Mexico.  Trust me.  You'll know when you read it.  My muses may never be the same (or come back) but thank you, very much!

The kind people who wrote me feedback, listened to me bitch, and wrote back with their opinions on what was coming next and who was doing what to whom are owed a great debt.  They supplied me with virtual hugs, virtual chocolate or flowers, and frequently made my day much brighter during the year and some this bugger took to write.  Some of these brave souls even took on the daunting task of checking web pages for typos and helping me make this as clean a story as possible.

You all are, literally, more numerous than I can name without inadvertently leaving people out, which I would hate to do.  All I can say is thank you, so very much!  And all of you who listened to my sneakiness, plotting, and scheming and then helped with it, should probably be ashamed of yourselves for helping me do such things to such nice characters.  (Or not!)

Last but not least:  Thank you to Maygra, who inadvertently broke my major writer's block on this.  At one point when I was whining about I didn't want to write a torture scene, her immediate reply was, "Well, then don't," as if this answer should be completely obvious.  At which point I decided to write about repairs instead.  Thanks, Maygra.

Back to:

Part One? Two? Three? Four? Five?
Part Six? Seven? Eight? Nine? Ten?
The Notes?

Need to check the scorecard?  Or the dramatis personae?

Comments, complains, continuity?  Send weather reports to Rhiannon.

Storm winds have lashed  people since 6/26/00.

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