Dear ones, now that Peregrine is wrapped up (just a bunch of typos and grammar glitches need removing), it's time to share my nefarious plans with you. Or at least some of them.
I always thought of myself as a writer who wings it. I rarely plotted a thing, unless it involved concocting dynamite in 1890s Boston or committing murder with an aconite-soaked silk chemise in 1880s London.