I never expected for the universe described in Rake at the Gates of Hell to be so popular. I imagined that I'd publish the story, receive some feedback ranging from "mildly intrigued" to "totally baffled", and move on to the other stories I was writing at the time: "twentythree" and "Please Master". Rake was a diversion, a vehicle for my schoolwork, a way (hopefully) to make theology interesting to the lay audience and entertaining for those who already knew the material. It was, in short, a lark.

I was overwhelmed by the response I got, both in email and in LiveJournal. One of the common threads in that feedback was people knew the echoes of what I was saying; it resonated through them. I began to realize that the fandom, like so many groups of people I know from a certain age range and of a certain upbringing, was comprised of a number of people who had been raised with the elements of organized religion, and even if they had moved onto a different path, they still retained that sort of sense-memory.

And then someone said the famous last words: "So when's there going to be a sequel?"

I started this story on a whim, late one February evening, when everyone had gone to bed and left me alone to think in the dark.

This is usually a bad idea.

I was browsing Canalbaby's timeline (a popslash national treasure), and started thinking: what would have happened when Lance was in Russia? Given the world I'd built, where Lance was one pair of hands standing against the darkness, his absence would have a serious impact on the world. JC was starting to step into Lance's shoes, but JC hadn't been born to it, so they must have come up with some way to bring him in on things -- what if that way turned out to have more repercussions than they'd thought? And the best way to torment someone whose mentor is thousands of miles away is to throw him into something well over his head and watch to see how he handles it, after all.

I wrote a few thousand words, mostly the beginning parts, and put it down when I realized I didn't know where the story was going. Rake was theological at its core, an action story only because without the action, there would have been no vehicle for the theology. I wanted the sequel to be an action story, a mystery; the inverse of Rake. (In the first draft, I succeeded too well; Ceciliaregent had to tell me to put some of the theology back in.) I'd left the boys at the end of Rake with the impression that things were getting better, but they weren't out of danger. In Glass, I decided, the danger was going to catch up to them in a different way.

The next few months involved a lot of "pick it up, type four sentences, put it down". I put it away for a little while, intending to come back to it when I figured out what was going on. (In the middle of April, I was still insisting the final version would be about 40,000 words. I underestimated.) Signed up for the Fan the Vote project in May, and one of the things sponsored for me was the sequel to Rake; it roughly coincided with JC's spring tour, and during that whole insanity I met Alicia (without_me), who would turn out to be this story's fairy godmother in some significant ways. (Which could pretty much be said of every story I've written since then.)

Then my summer got crazy. First I went to Disney World on vacation; then I went to Portland for work. (I didn't get much writing done in either place.) I came home, worked on some of the rest of the things I was spending time on, and wound up spending time with JCHalo on AIM -- when you're nocturnal by nature and nurture, it's good to have a Kiwi around to keep you company, especially one as awesome as Halo. When I've got a lot of projects going, I tend to IM someone and let them pick what I'm writing, and one night Halo picked Glass and told me to have at it. I finished the first section a few days later, and things started falling into place.

Then, in the middle of July, I lost internet for five days. (I can hear some of you twitching in sympathy.) I moped around for approximately three hours. Then I opened the file. The next sentence seemed to hit me like a brick. And the one after that. And the one after that...

The first section of Glass was written over six months. The second section of Glass was written in three days. I got my internet back halfway through section 3, and progress went from "full steam ahead" to "I'll get back to it soon" as I caught up with work. I went to visit SarahQ at the end of July, with the last few thousand words of the story staring at me balefully and saying "write me!". We started talking about it. We went out to dinner. She made the mistake of asking me if I'd thought about a sequel to the second book.

Well, it turned out that the reason I'd stalled on the ending was that I knew subconsicously that there was going to have to be a third book, and my brain wouldn't let me finish book 2 until I'd plotted book 3. Sarah and I walked all over downtown Annapolis, gesturing wildly, eating ice cream, and no doubt scaring the nice Navy boys. There was a great deal of illustrating things by the waving of chopsticks in midair. By the time we finished, we had the third book all plotted out.

I finished this story that night, sitting on her couch, while the sun rose outside and she slept on the other side of the room. We were on opposite sleep schedules at that point. She woke up, slightly dazed, to find me sitting on the edge of the bed and grinning like a maniac. "I think it's done," I said.

"Mrrrr," she said. (She, like me, is not at her best when she has first woken up.)

She read it after her morning actually started, and when I woke up, she said to me, "You're right. It's done." Then, of course, it was time to edit.

This story could not have existed without the help, support, feedback, and love of a lot of people. I have a number of people who are always willing to respond to an "oh my god, can I write at you?" in AIM; many of them have seen this story already, either in pieces or in whole, and have shaped and influenced it in a hundred ways. I am certain I am forgetting people in this list, and no slight is intended in the least. But at the very least, this story owes a significant debt of gratitude to the following:

archane, beta extraordinaire, who forced me to think out the magic system until it makes sense, who has the ability to ask just the right question, and who is always a comforting presence on the other side of the AIM window even when we're not actually actively talking. She sponsored 25,000 words of this for the Fan the Vote project; section 2 is what resulted.

ceciliaregent, who read the first draft and told me she liked it a lot -- and then very gently told me to put more ritual magic into it, take one section and break it up into several, make Lance more of a presence in the story, etc, etc... She was absolutely right, and the final product is what it is because of her insight.

jchalo, who sat with me on countless early mornings (well, early mornings for me), who told me I should start working on the story again, who never made fun of me when I scared myself with my own writing, and who understands the zen of the safety pin.

liz_w, for the conversations, the random dinners, and the pictures. Oh, the pictures.

mickeym, good friend and supportive ear, who always has time to give me a word of encouragement. I wish our schedules overlapped more; she's some of the greatest support a writer could have.

nonchop, who came in towards the end of the writing process, but who cheers me on like nobody's business and always makes me feel like I can keep going.

rhyssj, who cultivated the love of the Joey, and who graciously sat and listened to me babble about the story in a tiny parklet in Manhattan before we went to see Little Shop.

sathinks, who is personally responsible for making me think enough about Joey to cast him in such a crucial role in Glass, and who is absolutely not responsible at all for the ending.

valour, whom I also started talking to late in the writing process, but whose reading style involves lots of little observations and feedback about what she's thinking, which is precisely what I need when I'm writing. She's also one of perhaps three people who can tell me something isn't working, while I'm still writing it, without it sending me into a spiraling crash of depression. I cannot praise this talent highly enough.

without_me, She Who Wields The Red Pen, who nags me constantly for more and keeps me honest while I'm writing. The story we're writing together got shunted aside for this one, as did her Fan the Vote story, and still, she hasn't disowned me yet. She points out every time I say one thing and write the exact opposite, or every time I'm just flat-out not making sense. A great deal of book 3 is being plotted specifically for her.

And, of course and forever, sarahq, my Sarah; my inspiration, my muse, my beloved, and my first and foremost audience. Whether she's getting paragraphs in AIM or entire sections in email, she never fails to shape, guide, and nurture the final product. Without her, not only would I not be writing in this fandom, I most likely wouldn't be writing fiction at all. Without her, my life would be a much more cramped and miserable place.

This story was written to the music of Mike Doughty, Aisling Being, Blue Man Group, Bruce Cockburn, Karsh Kale, In Dulci Jubilo, and Zero 7. Section titles are from Mike Doughty and Soul Coughing. I have attempted to, where possible, remain faithful to canon. The timeline is as accurate as I can make it. All digressions and divergences are for the sake of the story.

It's finally fucking done. Thank you to everyone who's waited so eagerly for it.

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