September Fair, the fifth book in my Murder-by-Month series, comes out this September, though it may be available as early as August. This one is far and away the best in the series, and my plan was to quit on this high note. I’ve got a historical novel in the queue, and I’m hammering out a magical realism story that has completely captivated my imagination and it thrills me to write it.
Plus, I’ve recently fallen in love (first time in eight years!), I have two kids who each just got a new little animal (one puppy and one kitten), and I’ve got a full-time job. All these other draws on my time pretty much guaranteed that the Murder-by-Month series would need to take a break after September Fair.
So why can’t I let the series drop? Why do these Battle Lake plot ideas, character lines, and setting details pop unwanted into that area between my brain and eyes, where they spread like creeping 
Charlie? Sigh. It’s gotten so bad that I asked my agent to ask my publisher if they want another, tentatively titled Octoberfest, even though I’d already told them I didn’t want to write it. I’m waiting to hear back. Part of me hopes they don’t offer me a decent contract so I can get on with the rest of my life. The rest of me wants an excuse to write that damn novel.
And I’ve heard from my readers. They both want me to write Octoberfest, too. Do you have one of those? A story or novel idea that won’t let you go, even though you know your attention is needed elsewhere, the literary 
equivalent of the dark-haired, black-eyed man on a motorcycle, sitting outside your house come hithering you when you know you should be inside cleaning and baking? (p.s. I may have let you too far into my head with that analogy.)
