My original plan was to have book two in the Nosy Newfie series out in early February, so three months after the first book released. I figured that was a good timeline that I could meet on a fairly consistent basis.
But writing is a funny thing. And it turns out that about a third of the way into the new novel I realized I was writing the wrong one. Based on how people were talking to each other and interacting, what I’d written needed to be book three in the series not book two.
So that sent me back to the starting point. (This after about three false starts on the novel trying to make sure it was that perfect mix of light-hearted murder mystery and wasn’t going too dark and that the love interest storyline wasn’t taking too much of the focus or moving ahead too fast.)
Which is all to say that there will be a novel two. And it will be out sooner rather than later. But probably more late February than early February.
And don’t hold me to that. Although that’s definitely the goal I will delay publication if I have to to make sure the book is enjoyable to read. I love Maggie May and Miss Fancypants and want to be able to keep writing these books for you, but that means getting it “right” before I hit publish.
2 thoughts on “A Slight Delay”
I’m just starting your series and it seems like it would be fun read, however, when something is blaringly wrong, it makes it hard for me to stick with a story. I came across two things pretty close together in A Dead Man and Doggie Delights that made me write this.
First, you say that Maggie’s grandma has been dead for 3 years, then that her grandma and grandpa had been married 40 years. Maybe you explain that one of them was a step-grandparent later in the book, because otherwise I don’t see how they have a 30 something granddaughter. I get it that maybe they lived together for 20 years or so before they got married, but I really doubt if that was your intent.
The next thing was when you said the police matched the ballistic to the grandfather’s “shotgun”. You do realize that a bullet doesn’t actually travel down the barrel of a shotgun, only a bunch of small “shot” pellets, so there is no rifling to match. It’s virtually impossible to match which shotgun was used to fire any specific shot.
I do appreciate the work, blood, sweat and tears that go into the creative process of writing a book. I am an avid reader and I am going to continue on and hope for the best.
Thanks for the comment. I do appreciate it.
If you continued reading the book you’ll have seen that Lou is actually Maggie’s step-grandfather but since he was in her life her entire childhood she’s never thought of him as anything other than her grandfather. (Much like my own grandfathers when I was growing up who were both from subsequent marriages. I don’t think I’ve ever once thought of either one as a step-grandfather because they were all I ever knew.)
In terms of the shotgun issue. I’ll admit it wasn’t a primary concern of mine to be that accurate (so I may not be a good author for you to read because I’m sure I will make other missteps like that in the future), but I did do some internet research after you raised this issue and there are actually a number of ways to use ballistics on a shotgun, especially if the shotgun fired slugs or sabot projectiles instead of shot. There also appear to be some tests for lead left in the barrel that can then be compared to the pellets as well as firing pin markings and markings left by the ejector on the shell.
I do hope you enjoyed the rest of the story. And I do appreciate you reaching out. But again I’ll caution that if you continue to read the series you are very likely to have other concerns like the two above because the books are written from one person’s viewpoint and that viewpoint isn’t always going to spell things out or be 100% accurate all the time. I hope you can look past that to the enjoyable and fun stories I’m trying to tell, but if you can’t, I understand that, too. I’m a firm believer that not all authors are enjoyable for all readers and there’s nothing wrong in reading a book and saying, “Not my kind of writer.”