I’ve known for a few years now that this day was coming.  I kept telling myself that it would get better, that it was just a one time fluke – but the only one I was fooling was myself.

Sounds like a break-up speech, doesn’t it?  In many ways it is.  I’ve finally mentally said goodbye to an author that I’ve enjoyed for decades.  Yes, decades.  And it hurts just like breaking up with my best friend would as well.

Today I did something I never thought I’d do.  I went and read the reviews for a new release.  Surprising since I’m a “for the fun of it” reviewer?  Maybe.  But you see, for myself I want to be surprised by a story – that is the fun of it.  I don’t want to know everything before I crack open that first page.  The journey, the discovery is the enjoyment of reading to me.  But today I did read reviews.  And I found that I am not alone.

I don’t know what happened in this author’s life.  Something did.  When I’m more excited at reading a story that was published twenty years ago, one that I somehow missed rather than grab the newest release tells me that the spark is gone.  And it was with regret that I closed out the Amazon page for that newest story.  I no longer want to see the magic disappear with each new book.  I would much rather go back and re-read my collection and re-live the wonderment of those earlier works.  Because that is the author I loved and looked forward to each new release.  Sadly, that author no longer writes… at least not the stories that I want to read.

No, I’m not naming them – that would be unfair and rude.  But I know who is gone from my automatic excitement, don’t even read the blurb before hitting that buy button.  And it hurts.  And I know I’ll be tempted to try just one more time – I’ll talk myself out of it but the hurt will resurface.  I often wonder if authors understand just how much a part of our lives they become by letting us into their created universes.  It truly feels like I’m turning my back on my best friend – right after they walked away from me.