Judith Post's Blog, page 58

Smart Might Not Always Be Best. Maybe?

I pride myself on having some writing discipline.  When I finish writing one book, I already have ideas for the next book, and probably the one after that.  I usually let myself write the first chapter, sometimes even the first few chapters, before I make myself stop to work on plot points and character wheels.  I won’t let myself play with more chapters until I have enough plot points to finish the entire book.  I’ve learned the hard way that if I cheat, I pay for it later.  I’m SO not good at winging it.

All that said, my left brain and my right brain don’t always agree.  Some characters and some books pull at me even when I tell them to go away.  That’s how I am with Muddy River.  I have ALL of the plot points I need to write my next Lux mystery.  I’ve even started it, and I like it.  I’m excited about it.  I have 20 plot points for the first half of my 7th Jazzi mystery–the book I mean to write when I finish Lux.  And I’ve written the first chapter of that book, too.  And it feels good.

BUT…today I sat down and started a new Muddy River.  I couldn’t help it.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get excited enough about either of my other mysteries to push the stupid thing away.  Muddy River is where I let my imagination off its leash.  It’s NOT smart for me to write another supernatural mystery.  They’re not selling.  But my brain needs to have some fun before I devote myself to anything else.  And Muddy River, for me, is where that happens.

This time, and from now on, I’m compromising by not writing a full length book.  I’m going to aim for 40-60 pages and self-publish it as an Amazon Kindle short read.  I don’t need to write 300 pages to make my brain happy.  Just a short play time will do the trick.  I’m not expecting much to come from it, so I can’t be disappointed when it bombs like the others.  And that should worry me, right?  But it doesn’t.  I’m giving myself permission to write a few almost certain failures, because if I don’t, I’ll fizzle and burn out and my writing will become forced.  So, for the next week or more, I’m going to be fighting bounty hunters in Muddy River, battling shapeshifters and Succubi, and having a really good time.

Here’s hoping you’re enjoying yourself, too.  And happy writing.

Mystery Musings

I recently finished reading Ilona Andrews’s SAPPHIRE FLAMES.  And when her protagonist, Catalina, was stressed, she cooked.  She made wonderful food for her family–her mother, grandmother, sister, cousins, and whoever else was around.  I really enjoyed those scenes because I often do the same thing in my books.  In the Jazzi series, Jazzi cooks for her family and friends every Sunday, and Ansel helps her.  Her cousin, Jerod, and his family are always the first to arrive.  But by the time Jazzi and Ansel load food on their kitchen island for people to serve themselves, buffet-style, twenty people circle the table.  And usually, Jazzi is knee-deep in a mystery to solve, and they talk about the suspects and witnesses and often come up with a new clue for Jazzi to follow.  Jazzi’s Gran has the gift of “sight” and occasionally “sees” something significant for Jazzi to look into.  And of course, Jerod teases her as often as possible.

To me, meals are a time for people who care about each other to come together.  Just like there’s a difference between cooks and chefs, there’s a difference between people who enjoy food.  Gourmands concentrate on the food itself.  But mostly, in my family, we enjoy the food, but we also enjoy each other.  The food’s just part of the meal.

In my Muddy River series, even though the protagonist is a witch and her mate is a fire demon, the same thing happens.  Hester often invites her coven and their families to her house for meals.  That’s when they catch up with each other and discuss whatever enemy they’re fighting at the moment.  It’s a time to talk strategy and bond together.

In SAPPHIRE FLAMES, Catalina was a sophisticated cook.  She made a dessert I’d never heard of.  It’s kind of fun to glimpse a little more about a character by the food she chooses to serve.  A guy who throws a burger on the grill makes an entirely different impression from Catalina who made roasted lemon chicken, rosemary potatoes, and a shaved Brussel sprouts and kale salad, besides the dessert.  So many little things can be telling about characters.  Food’s just one of them.

Even Better Than I Expected

I stayed up longer than usual to finish reading SAPPHIRE FLAMES by Ilona Andrews.  I hardly ever do that anymore, so it takes a really good book that I can’t put down to keep me up into the wee hours.

When I want a book with wild imagination, lots of action, and even more battles, my go to is Ilona Andrews.  The same can be said for tons of other readers.  She’s a New York Times best-selling author, because she delivers.  When I want shivers but no horror, she delivers that, too.  Time after time, in every book, her protagonists (female and her romantic interest) look like there’s no way they can survive their newest threat.  The odds always seem impossible.  And of course, they somehow manage to scrape through alive.  They face mages who can shred minds, reach into another sphere to pull out monsters, or amass armies.  It’s wonderful fun.

In the first set of three books featuring Catalina’s family–starting with BURN FOR ME–the books revolve around Nevada and Rogan.  Nevada’s the oldest sister in the family, who’s struggling to keep the family’s detective agency solvent after her father dies and to keep food on the table.  When she takes on her latest case, she runs smack into “Mad” Rogan.  She and Rogan got three books before their HEA, and they were great together.

SAPPHIRE FLAMES is the first book in the second part of the series, featuring Nevada’s sister Catalina and her romantic interest, Alessandro.  There are references to the first books in the series, but I think there’s enough information that you could read this set without reading the first.  And this set has a different feel.  I can’t remember reading a more dashing hero than Alessandro.  He’s gorgeous.  He’s sexy.  He’s Italian and a count.  And he’s deadly.  Plus, he really, really wants Catalina.

The especially fun part about Alessandro is that his magic negates anyone else’s magic he’s close enough to.  AND if there’s any kind of weapon close enough, he can have a copy of it in his hand to use.  When he battles, he can go through weapons one after another until he finds the right one to finish his opponent.  My favorite example of this is when he and Catalina are battling a mage who can change into a huge killing beast, and he shoots her over and over again at a building site and finally ends up with a chain saw in his hand while Catalina hacks at her head with a sword.  Nice family fun.

Catalina’s magic struck me as more subtle, but it’s every bit as deadly.  She can wrap her magic around anyone and make them love her to the point that they’ll do anything she asks to make her happy.  She’s VERY careful of her magic and has to hold it in so that it doesn’t affect innocent people.  She uses her magic in really surprising ways, and I enjoyed watching her get out of deadly situations by being so clever.

And when you put Catalina and Alessandro together…sparks fly.  Chemistry explodes.  I knew they wouldn’t get together at the end of the book (since it’s book one in what I assume will be three), but oh, I wanted them together!  I should mention quickly that Catalina’s family and friends are all wonderful in their own ways, as well.  And as you can tell by this long, gushing review, I absolutely loved this book.

Whew! The steam…

I’ve been reading a lot of mysteries, back to back.  Some cozy, some thrillers, some historical, but I was in the mood for something different, and then I read a fun review on Goodreads for a romance:  HOTSHOT DOC, by R.S. Grey.  A grumpy, dedicated-to-his-job surgeon scares away one assistant after another until he meets Bailey, a cute blonde who knows her stuff.  I don’t read romance often, but this sounded like the kind where sparks fly, so I decided to give it a try.  And I really enjoyed it.  The story has a lot of heart.  It also has some steaming  hot sex.  If you’ve recently decided to become celibate, this isn’t the book for you.  It could make you change your mind.

When I choose a book to read, I don’t LOOK for sex, but I sure don’t mind it, either.  I admire good writing when I find it, whether the author’s describing a Regency social gathering, a tense suspense scene, or two bodies that can’t resist being together.  (I can’t handle too much gore or torture, though, even when they’re well done.  I’ve gone soft in my old age).

When I first started writing urban fantasy as Judith Post, I tried to write hot sex scenes, and I was only so-so at it.  They’re hard to write.  It’s not just about body parts fitting together.  It’s about emotion and passion, too.  Desire.  Need.  When I signed a contract to write clean romances and cozies, it was a blessing.  I could focus on my strengths.  Passion seems to be one of my weak points.

A wonderful woman who used to insist on editing my early books told me to get past my hang ups, that sex is a natural thing between two people who love each other.  And then she analyzed my handwriting.  That was a revelation.  When there are no lines on the paper, my words start at one end of a line and go higher by the time I reach the other end–the sign of an optimist.  I cross my t’s higher than usual–I enjoy work.  And my a’s, e’s, and o’s are closed–the sign of a person who likes her privacy.  She said that’s why I didn’t open up when I wrote steamy scenes.  She told me if I’d open my vowels, my writing would follow.  I’ve tried.  I really have.  It hasn’t worked.  What happens behind closed doors, stays behind closed doors.

Whatever.  In HOTSHOT DOC, I sure enjoyed reading it, but it was because the characters were so RIGHT for each other.  And I liked each of them so much.  They fit together in every way, not just in bed.  And now that I’ve kicked up my reading heels a little, I’m ready to go back to murders and clues.  Happy reading and writing to you!

 

Cover Reveal

My fifth Jazzi Zanders mystery, THE BODY FROM THE PAST, is now available for reviewers on NetGalley: https://www.netgalley.com/catalog/book/191452

The awesome thing, though, is that NetGalley shows the cover.  And this cover is so much fun!  The book comes out late September, and my editor asked me to set the story in that time frame, too, with a nod to Halloween at the end of the book.  So Jazzi and Ansel are throwing a Sunday family get-together, Halloween costume party.  And Ansel’s pug, George, gets dressed as a devil.  My daughter, Robyn, and her husband had a pug, Bill, and we called him our “furry grandson.”  George is fashioned from Bill, who loved to steal the last sips of beer from bottles on the floor at parties.  He was the most mellow dog I’ve ever met.  And he loved to go for walks…until he got tired, and Scott would have to carry him home:)  So, accordingly, George is the star on this cover.  Hope you like it as much as I do.

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Just For Fun–sharing a short story

I’m working on plot points while I’m between books.  I think of a few ideas, then draw a blank.  Think of a few more, etc.  So it’s start and stop, brood for a while, then think of something else.  And that’s when story ideas whisper in my ear to tempt me.  And why not let them when I’m between books?  So I wrote this one.  It’s stalling so that I can have fun instead of working on plotting, and I know that, but it’s all right at this point.  So here goes:

OR YOU’LL REGRET IT

I stretched out on the king-size bed–my bed, now—in the huge bedroom on the second floor with a deep balcony. My bedroom, now. In the massive mansion I’d envied since the first time I stepped foot in it.

Jackson Kendricks took everything he had for granted. His wealth. His good looks. His brain and talent. “None of it can take the place of people you love,” he’d often told me. He’d lost his parents when we were sophomores in college. A car accident when they were driving up to visit him at the university.

His mom and dad had invited me to come home with him many times, always welcomed me. They were glad their son had made a friend. Like he needed any. With money like he had, he could have bought as many as he wanted. But Jackson was painfully shy. I was painfully poor. I wasn’t as smart as he was. Or as talented. But I knew a good thing when it smacked me in the face. The heavens must have been smiling when they made me his roommate. The lady who’d read my palm at the street fair had told me my fortunes were going to change, and she’d been right.

“But you must be wise,” she’d cautioned. “Make the right choices, or you’ll live with regrets.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I started to study with him. We got pizza together. We went to football and basketball games together. Where I went, I invited him, and he always picked up the tab. People started calling us the “odd couple.” Me, poor and plain. Him, rich and handsome. But at one of the home games, a girl with long blond hair, deep blue eyes, and dimples to disappear in sat next to him. They began to talk. He invited her to grab burgers with us after the game. And they clicked.

Jackson wouldn’t ditch me. He was too nice, too loyal for that. So the three of us started doing things together, but he hung on her words instead of mine. He’d focus on her with a dazed look. And he invited her and a friend to come home with us for a three-day weekend. He said that the big, old house was too quiet, too lonely without his parents. Poor him, inheriting it all so early in life.

He and I had talked about going into business together when we graduated. He didn’t really need me. I knew that, but he didn’t have anyone else. He wanted a partner, and I didn’t have any money to invest in anything. So I said yes. But the pretty blond might ruin everything. She was graduating in our class, too, and she’d majored in marketing and was on the honor roll.

Jackson and I had an early class on Friday, and we could leave after we finished it. The girls decided to drive up later that night. Jackson had the housekeeper order all kinds of snacks and groceries for pizzas, burgers, and nachos. But the girls didn’t get there in time for supper. We waited. And waited. Until finally, near starving, we ate.

We stayed up and played cards, watched TV. It was almost one in the morning when the knock on the door sounded. The girls’ car had gone through an intersection on a red light and been totaled. Both dead.

It was his parents’ accident that had given me the idea. A brake line leaked, and their brakes didn’t work. Everyone knew girls didn’t take in their cars for checkups when they should.

Jackson lost it for a while. It took everything I could think of to get him back in school to finish the year. After we graduated, he poured all of his energy into setting up our business. We had a strong start, a promising future, so when the street fair came again, I walked into the fortune teller’s tent with a cocky grin.

She raised her dark eyebrows, pulled out her Tarot deck, and dealt a spread. Then she shook her head and pointed to the card The Fool. “That’s you,” she told me. “Don’t be stupid again. There are unseen forces working against you. Do the right thing, or you’ll regret it.”

Regret. Again. I blinked, confused, leaving her tent. How had I been stupid? I’d had a problem, and I took care of it. Now, all was good. I was walking to the Ferris Wheel to meet Jackson when I saw him, leaning to listen as a guy from our finance class talked to him.

When the guy left, I frowned. “What was that all about?”

“That was Mark Lisbon from school. He made an offer on our company, wants us to sell to him. We’d make a decent profit, but I like what we’re doing. I want to stick with it.”

“How much of a profit?”

When he told me, the numbers danced around in my head. We could sell and live comfortably and never work again. But wait! Jackson had never had to work, had he? He wanted to. But I didn’t.

For the next few weeks, I started spreading the rumor that I was worried about Jackson, that he was so depressed, I’d asked him to see a doctor, but he wouldn’t. And then, my friend almost made it easy for me. I walked into his room one afternoon and he was on balcony, bending over the railing, watching something in the distance. All it took was one hard push.

The funeral had been last week, and I think I looked properly shaken up and doleful. The housekeeper bought my act and went out of her way to cheer me up. Steaks and seafood for suppers. But now, I lay in Jackson’s bed in his big room and almost had to pinch myself. All of it was mine.

I was trying to count the crystals in the chandelier when it started to swing. I glanced out the open balcony doors, but there was no wind. The dresser drawers opened and closed. The mirror floated off the wall and hung above me, but it wasn’t my reflection in its glass. A beautiful blond girl was standing beside Jackson, and they were both smiling at me. I stared. That wasn’t possible. And then the mirror crashed. Shards of glass splintered in my skin, and two large shards poised above my neck and slashed down.

I blinked a few times, looking down at my body on the bed. Was that really me? Then what was I now? I held my hands in front of me and could see through them.

“Nice to have all of us together again,” a translucent Jackson said, smiling at me. “Brittany and I thought it only appropriate that you join us.”

“I don’t want to,” I said. “There’s nothing to do here. What happens next? Don’t we go to the light or something?”

Jackson snickered. “Is that really where you think you’ll go?”

“You can’t leave until we do,” Britanny told me. “And we want to stick around to see the transformation.”

“What transformation?”

“Of the house, of course.” Jackson waved his hand to include our surroundings. “My will left everything to you, but if you died, I donated everything to a children’s home. Soon, this old house will be filled with kids’ laughter.”

I cringed. “I don’t like kids.”

Jackson’s grin grew wider. “I remember you telling me that.” He and Brittany joined hands and went out to stand on the balcony when the housekeeper found me. Cops and men with a stretcher came next. I watched them carry my body away, shaking my head. I was so close. I’d almost had everything I’d ever wanted.

Then a voice sounded through the room. “Don’t be stupid. There are unseen forces working against you.”

I shivered. I knew that voice.

Jackson heard it, too, and turned to look at me. “She was trying to tell you to respond to generosity with generosity of your own. We could have all been happy. She tried to warn you.”

“Stupid fortuneteller. Why didn’t she just say what she meant?”

Jackson just shook his head at me and returned his attention to Brittany. They could hardly tear their eyes off each other. I’d say “Get a room,” but we were standing in Jackson’s bedroom, weren’t we?

And me? What of me? I was going to listen to happy children pound up and down the stairs. I’d wish I were dead, but hey, I was, wasn’t I?

IF I were smart

In Monday’s blog, I talked about Jenna Bennett’s 19th Savannah Martin mystery.  I’m impressed how she’s written so many books in that series, and for me, none of them have been flat.  None of them feel like they were written because she had to meet a deadline or a contract obligation.  I love reading series books.  I’ve read them for a long time, and I can’t think of too many authors who never wrote a book that didn’t live up to par with the others in the series.  So how do those few rare authors who keep each book fresh manage it?

For one thing, their characters and their relationships grow in each book.  But that’s not the only thing.  Another thing that factors into it, I think, is that they’re not rushed.  A deadline isn’t breathing down their necks.  They have the luxury of a little time to let their characters evolve.  They even let the tone of their books evolve slightly.  Things might get more serious when the characters have to deal with everyday issues besides solving mysteries.

Another factor, at least for me, is not having to write the same series back to back, over and over again.  I think that helps.  Not always.  I can think of a few authors who write as many as three  or more different series, but I can still watch the one I particularly like get stuck in a rut anyway.  And I think (I don’t know), it’s because their writing gets rushed.  They’re in a hurry and fall back on the same old things to move the books along.  It’s a tricky balance, though, I admit.  One reviewer complained because I use some of the same things in every Jazzi novel, but more reviewers like those aspects of the book, so I’ve kept them but tried harder to change them up a little.

Which leads me to the title of this blog.  I just turned in my sixth Jazzi Zanders novel.  It fulfilled my second book contract with my publisher.  Hopefully, I’ll get a contract for three more, but I never feel secure about that.  Publishers sometimes to decide to shift their focus and try different things.  Whatever they decide, I still intend to write another book.  I have an idea that excites me, and I’ve even started writing plot points for it.  I’m up to #22, and I’m aiming for 40.  I’m over halfway there.  So what am I going to work on today?  Finishing those?  No, the second Lux Mystery is calling to me.  (I’m still waiting for my agent to read it and let me know what she thinks.  Publishing is SLOW).  Regardless what she decides, today, I have to play with ideas for it.  Is it smart to stop work on Jazzi’s book?  Probably not.  I should finish the plotting for it and THEN move on to Lux.

Am I going to?  No.  I’ve learned that when my brain sends me in a different direction in the early stages of a book, it’s telling me it needs a break.  And thinking about a different book for a while can actually benefit the first book I was working on.  I’ve also learned about myself, that when my brain thinks of a wonderful, enticing idea for a new book when I’m in the MIDDLE of the one I’m working on, I can’t trust it.  It’s just me trying to avoid the middle muddle that slows me down and isn’t all that much fun.  Brains can be as tricky as writing.  Anyway, for the time being, I’m pushing Jazzi to the side to work on Lux.  And I’m fine with that.

Here’s hoping you know what works for you.  We all have different methods and techniques.  And happy writing!

Are you in the mood for a female Indiana Jones?

My BFF writing friend and critique partner, M.L. Rigdon/Julia Donner has her book, The Atlantis Crystal, on sale right now for 99 cents.  It’s a pretty darn fun read.  So I took this time to pick her versatile head.  Her mind jumps from Regency romances, to Western historicals, to mad cap adventure.  And they all have her unique stamp on them.  Check out what motivates her to write:

What gave you the idea for The Atlantis Crystal?

I have always been an Atlantis and ancient history freak and merged that with my respect for geeks. (My first TV crush was Wally Cox. It’s doubtful anybody remembers him.) I also admired the smart people in school. I had to work hard for my mediocre grades. Not a test-taker myself, unless it was essay, so the mental workings of brainy types were a source of fascination.

Also, I like fearlessness and got fed up with guys always being the ones getting to swing on the vines. Gimme some warrior, like Boadicea kicking Roman butt. Can’t tell you how long I stood staring up at her statue on Westminster Bridge. Indy Jones is fun, but I wanted a heroine more focused and flawed. She had to come with the emotional baggage women haul around and only forget about when driven by something else.

Dr. Philadelphia Hafeldt (don’t call her Philly) was molded from being the neglected child of two academic types—a reclusive father and ball-buster mother. She’s not confident in herself but trusts her intellect. She adores her archeologist uncle who encouraged her to explore. When he disappears, nothing will stop her from finding him, even though it means going back into a labyrinth where she was trapped when a girl and almost died.

What excites you about characters and plots?

Their humanity. They have to be interesting, not necessarily complex, just something that captures my interest, especially humor. Penny Reid’s Knitting in the City Series comes to mind, a lot of quirky personalities with quick wit.

What makes you impatient with a story that is enough for you to set it aside, unfinished?  

Huge mistakes and sloppy work. This shows a sign of disrespect for the craft that messes up my head. Typos here and there won’t make me stop. I’ve even continued with stories with totally gummed up formatting because I was so invested in the people and plot. Bloopers can make me laugh, such as coming into the room, shutting the door, sitting down to chat, and then somebody gets up to close the door. (This from a massively famous writer.) I just chuckled and kept reading. Or if it’s just boring. There are masses of wonderful things to read.

What did you like to read as a child ?

Horses and dogs. All of Walter Farley. Lugged home armloads of books from the library during the summer. I wasn’t the history reader that I am now. I spent my early years surrounded in post Civil War history in my aunt’s museum in Galena, IL. Later in my teens, it was mostly the classics. Often I was too young to understand but became hooked on the characters, all that angst.

What are you reading now?

Mostly books my friends have written. Our writing group and extended writing community have so many talented storytellers of varied genres. Just got to beta read Judi Lynn’s newest. It’s smashing and made me mad whenever I had to stop to make notes.

I’m always rereading Austen and fact checking history. At present finishing up a terrific nonfiction work, Jane Austen at Home, by Lucy Worsley. I don’t read fantasy if I’m writing it, but loved Anne McCaffrey Pern series when I was younger. 

What are you working on now?

I must be nuts—four are started; the second in a fantasy trilogy, the fourteenth in the regency series, the third in a western romance, and I’m juggling ideas for the final Phil, Rod, Maddie and Binky adventure. Oh, and a regency mystery short for an anthology.

Never mind, I am definitely nuts. And I love my character babies, especially Phil, her insecurities and courage, her disbelief that a man like Rod finds her fascinating, when she sees herself as a train wreck. But then, we all know that it could have something to do with sex, and that can keep things interesting.

My contact info:

M.L Rigdon (aka Julia Donner)

Follow on Twitter @RigdonML

Blog: https://historyfanforever.wordpress.com/

Website http://www.MLRigdon.com

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-donner

https://www.facebook.com/Julia-Donner-697165363688218/timeline

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And, the buy link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B005G3Z28G?notRedirectToSDP=1&ref_=dbs_mng_calw_0&storeType=ebooks

LOVE IT WHEN IT’S FREE

My BFF, fellow writer, and critique partner M. L. Rigdon/Julia Donner invited me to her blog today for a Q&A. She asked great questions, so it was lots of fun. I’m biased, but still picky, and I love her writing. You might want to check out some of her books. Thanks for inviting me, M.L.!

historyfanforever

Judi Lynn, friend and critique partner, is offering a free chapter of her Muddy River Mystery series today. Since she has generously and repeatedly offered her blog for guest postings for my works, it’s time to repay, and I do so happily.

Muddy River is atmospheric, sometimes grizzly, and full of juicy characters, most especially her H&H, both wicked scary with magical powers. Neither of them mess around when it comes to kicking the butts of the baddies.

Something that has always fascinated me is Judi’s mind. She comes up with some creepy stuff. The contrast to what she puts on the page and what she’s like to be around and have as a friend bears no resemblance. I suppose it’s the same with acting—one doesn’t have to be a murderer to portray a serial killer. Although, I couldn’t look at Mark Harmon for years after he did the Ted…

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#19

I just finished Jenna Bennett’s latest mystery, Collateral Damage:  A Savannah Martin Mystery.  I love this series.  It started out as equal parts romance, equal parts mystery, but it’s evolved into a strong family and marriage.  I was curious how the author would handle having Savannah solve crimes and care for a baby, but it works.  Admittedly, I had one fussy baby who cried more than she cooed and one easy-going baby, but even then, I don’t know anyone whose baby is as good as Savannah’s.  Still, it works.

I particularly liked this book because it felt like Rafe and Savannah were a married team, with both of them showing their strengths and supporting each other.  For a long time, they loved each other but they each did their own thing.  Now, they work together.  The thing that keeps surprising me is that this is the NINETEENTH book, and I still look forward to the next one.  The stories haven’t grown stale because the characters keep growing–all of them.  Savannah’s mother, who was a spoiled southern belle at the beginning of the series, has changed a lot book by book.

I’m turning in my 6th Jazzi Zanders mystery this weekend, and I’ve worried about keeping each book fresh, not falling into a pattern, a rut, but Jenna Bennett proves it’s possible.  I think COLLATERAL DAMAGE is one of her best.  I’ve followed some authors for a long time, and some of my favorites hit a point where their books sagged.  It felt like they were just tired of them.  And I worried that that might be a common pitfall, something that was hard to avoid.  Eventually, they pulled out of it, and their books flexed their muscles again.  But so far, for me, that hasn’t happened with this series.  And I’m glad.  It gives me hope.