What's A Writer To Do?

Whenever an author decides to write a series, the inevitable question comes up. How long is this series going to last? I thought I had answered that question to myself about my Archangel series. I was going to make sure all the Lehor brothers had their HEA and then I would be done. Finished. Kaput.

Then the strangest thing happened to me the other day while I was mopping my kitchen floor. One of my secondary characters, Raphael, paid me a visit.

I’m down on my hands and knees, because that is how I always scrub my floors and he just rudely barges into my house and marches in. The first thing I notice, is the bugger didn’t even bother to take his boots off and he is leaving scuff marks on my freshly cleaned floor.

“Raphael!” I admonish. “Take those things off. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get that off tile?” I look up the length of his leather-clad legs, to his taunt stomach, hard chest before setting on his dark green eyes. His collar length, raven hair is slightly mussed, like he left his house in a rush and didn’t take the time to style it properly.

“I heard that you were going to end the series?” He pinned me with an accusing glare.

“Yes, what’s it to you?” I start to rub furiously at the offending marks.

“But, you haven’t given me my HEA yet.”

I looked up, surprised. Raphael almost sounded like he was whining. That was so unlike the normally reserved archangel. As that thought was still rolling around my head, he opened my fridge and helped himself to a slice of cold pizza. Now that really wasn’t like him. This guy was so uptight that even eating off a paper plate was barbaric in his opinion.

“I can’t believe that you could forget about me,” he mumbled around a mouthful of pizza. I watched as bacon crumbles fell off the slice and littered my once clean floor. I stood up and threw the cloth into the sink, realizing I wasn’t going to get anything done until I settled this matter.

“Look Raphael, this series has to end sometime. I’m sorry, but that’s the way things have to be.”

He set his food down on the counter so he could gently grip my arms in a pleading gesture. As I craned my neck so I could look up at him, I wondered why in the hell I had written him so tall.

“You haven’t given me a chance to tell you my story yet.” His gaze was so earnest that I almost caved. Almost.

“Not going to happen, big guy. You tell me your story and then I’m going to have to write it.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Pretty, please?”

“No! No! No!”

Then he did the one thing that could shatter my resolve. He gave me the puppy dog eyes. Raphael, one of the oldest archangels, leader of the healers, and angel warrior gave me the frigging puppy dog eyes. So unfair.

Damn. It.

“Fine, tell me you story,” I relented with a sigh.

Then he went on to spell out his future adventures, complete with his heroine and some surprising twists for the angel warriors and I realized there was no way I could pass up the chance to write his story.

“Fine,” I snapped. “You win. After I get finished with the brothers, I’ll do your story next. Happy?”

He gave me a cocky grin. “I knew you would see things my way. I’ll get out of your hair now so you can get to writing.”

“I can’t write yet, because I have to re-mop my floor, you rude angel.”

He made his way to the door, tossing over his shoulder, “By the way, Uriel was asking where you lived.”

No! The last thing I needed was another visit by yet another secondary character. “Please, tell me you did not tell him.”

He shot off another grin. “I’m sorry, it just slipped out. He said to expect a visit sometime real soon.”

I let out a shriek of frustration as Raphael left, shutting my front door quietly behind him.