As I type this, I have butterfly bush in my pants. This sounds like a wonderfully naughty Brazilian wax, but I mean it literally. I was cutting back the butterfly bush in my yard, and the flecks of last year’s petals rained down the back of my shirt and into my long underwear. Not sexy at all, though probably not quite so uncomfortable as waxing. This led me to thinking about all the ways in which I am NOT like the heroine of my latest book, VOWED IN SHADOWS. Nim—aka, the Naughty Nymphette—would know all about waxing. She is a pole dancer; I sit at a computer for ten-plus hours a day. Nim goes on dangerous adventures fighting monsters; I avoid looking in the back of the fridge toward the end of the month. Nim is possessed by a demon….Okay, that one we kind of have in common. Although hers is a repentant demon trying to earn its redemption, and mine is the demon of writing. That demon can never be redeemed. People often ask which parts of the characters are the author, at least in disguise. Sometimes I wish it was more. Like when I see the covers of…