Two things I hate in a novel: Plots that turn on highly intelligent perceptive women doing obviously dangerous and/or stupid things. The other is a Deus ex Machina ending. And I hate them even more when they show up in a mystery. And I hate them MUCH, MUCH MORE when it’s a really well-written mystery. And this just happened to me.* And I was so excited about figuring it out. Then about 25 pages before the end, the antagonist went into a two-page monologue filling in most of the blanks and the MC went back into the house with him even though she knew he was going to try to kill her. End of rant.
*I won’t mention the author’s name but it rhymes with Flanya Mensch.
You know how it goes. Bookstore owner gives author glowing introduction. Author reads. Author takes questions. Not when Julie Berry is the author. She opened the program by playing a portion of the Beethoven Pathetique Sonata and Maple Leaf Rag on a keyboard. Between the reading and Q&A she played and sang more songs. So go buy her book and attend one of her readings. The End.
Though I have been missing in action for a bit, because, well life. But nothing bad. I’ve been writing and querying and writing and editing and writing and going to writers conferences, and submitting (only in the writing sense). And I’ve been schlepping to and from California because this…