Stop describing Bythos’s lips as “plush.” Yes, it’s the ideal term for them, but there are other words to describe a set of full, pale pink, perfectly cupid bow-ed lips on a demigod. Lush, for example. Plump. Sensuous. Suckable. You get the idea.

Also, stop using the same term to describe his ass. I know it’s a surprisingly well-upholstered thing of muscular beauty, but you also know whose ass gets that term applied to it on a regular basis. It just means you’ll wind up unexpectedly meeting him at some point and feel very weird about the whole thing. It’s bad enough that you have to avoid Michael Fassbender and John Barrowman for the rest of your life — don’t add to that list.

Also, more beard love for Aphros. He should be using those lovely bristles on Ian’s inner thighs and other sensitive areas. Use all your tools, Nicola.

And I wrote 3,033 words today, which gives me 42,051 for NaNoWriMo, and 54,060 words in total. Amusingly, I wrote a Starbucks scene while at Starbucks, which made the setting description a doddle.

Thanks to Tiffany Reisz, the minx, I’ve added a rather ominous subplot in the middle, which 1) will be picked up and utilized further down the series, 2) is causing all kinds of relationship problems for the boys, and 3) means that Storm Season will probably top out around 70K. Also, Bythos is a great big brilliant idiot of a manchild, and Aphros has got to get over his inferiority complex about not being “the smart one.” Ironically, the human who’s still mourning his dead wife is the most emotionally balanced of the three. I love my boys to bits, but man, they’re making me pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh.

Secretly, I’m also wondering how many people who read this will also want to read Ian’s SF eco-thriller Greenstrike. That would be very meta.