I'm also puzzling about the problem of delineating the character of Lalitha, who being foreign, is difficult to describe. But perhaps the things she does in this final book are enough to provide a useful description of her various little characteristics, and the details that make Lalitha's little family a unique resource for Helen. I took time out yesterday to read through a few pages of Helen and Lalitha, and I was a little overwhelmed with how I had managed to make the characters there so persuasive and three dimensional. The Helen in the first few chapters of Helen and Lalitha is quite close to the Helen of the stories before the episodes published in Smashwords begin; a smooth carry over of the girl depicted in Ballet Camp. The Helen in India is new; I don't know why, but I had abbreviated her Indian adventures; I think I have lost the extended version, so I can't restore it. Then, the Helen of the early California days was yet another distinct evolution, and finally the Helen after the return to Philadelphia was a pretty distinctive grad-school version of Helen that is sort of obnoxious. That is where Helen becomes a professional violinist, but I keep looking for passages where Helen is away from home giving concerts, but there are very few. But it's too late for a complete rewrite of Lalitha, so it'll have to remain as it is.
I have given up making Concerto have a dramatic story, and having any heavy sex in it. At this point, it is just an ending, and it's going to be moderately believable, and it's going to gather together a few threads, but that's about all it can accomplish. I mean, it could accomplish a lot more, but I don't think I'm capable of doing it at this point!!
Another handicap for me is being confused about which little stories-within-other-stories I have actually published. I decided I would barrel along, and if it so happens that there are references to stories that never got published, I will just do another book, a collection of the missing stories, after Concerto has been successfully published.
Much love, Kay Hemlock Brown