On the topic of poor planning . . . when is a trilogy not a trilogy? When I started writing about Emelynn Taylor and her Gift, I had no idea so many people would love her as much as I do. It’s such a thrill for me to learn that readers want to know if there will be another book.
The answer is YES! I’m happy to confirm that I’m currently working on a fourth book featuring Emelynn…but it’s got me in a bit of a conundrum.
What do you call the fourth book in a trilogy?
The Gift started off as a stand-alone before it grew into a trilogy and now a fourth book is emerging. Clearly my foresight in this area isn’t stellar.
And the ideas just keep coming (some of them fueled by readers!) I can see Emelynn and her covey heading for a heap of trouble, and with the upheaval in the Tribunal, and their secret exposed, there’s no end of potential fodder. That is NOT a complaint; I love writing about Emelynn and I’m quite happy that The Gift Trilogy laid the groundwork for what may follow. The conundrum is what to call it?
Talk about poor planning! Book four cannot, obviously, be part of the trilogy. I could rename it a quadrilogy, but that doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, does it? And what do I do if yet another book comes calling?
I could really use your help. So far, I’ve come up with the Covey Chronicles (yuck), and The Gift Series (yawn).
Your input would be greatly appreciated. In fact, if I use your suggestion, I’ll give you credit in the book as well as my unending gratitude! Give it a thought.







This discussion comes up more often now that I have books for sale in both formats: do you prefer e-ink or paper? For me, it’s not an either/or situation. I love my paper books, the way they smell, the heft of them, the feel of paper. I love beautiful cover art and the way books look on a bookshelf, enticing and ready to pluck like ripe fruit.
We recently took a road trip to Naramata to visit friends and join in a birthday celebration. The trip had been planned for weeks, so the details were well organized: ferry schedules consulted, route mapped out, and hotels booked. So imagine my surprise when an unexpected windfall cropped up.
Take grooming the dog, for example. Molly was due for a clip at Christmas, but with all the company and cooking and such, well, I figured another week or two wouldn’t hurt. She got a brush and a bath and we made it through Christmas.
But eventually, even I couldn’t ignore the whispers of, “You can’t see a thing, can you girl,” and the oft-repeated, “aren’t you a shaggy dog.”